Heirs of Ravenscar

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Not long ago he had antagonized his mother-in-law, and she had heard all about it from Nan Watkins herself. Nan had come to visit her at the Charles Street house in London several months ago, and had poured out her woes. Nan had suggested in no uncertain terms that George was something of a wastrel, and that he was wasting her money, inasmuch as it was George who was spending the large allowance she gave to Isabel.

  She still remembered how startled she had been, and also irritated with George. Nan had been good to her daughter and son-in-law, who apparently was abusing her goodwill and her generosity.

  That day Cecily had tried to console Nan, who was genuinely upset, and had suggested she talk to George in a firm, no-nonsense way. ‘You just have to make him see sense,’ Cecily had finished. ‘Or cancel the allowance you give Isabel, force George to support his wife and live within his means.’ Nan had agreed, and left it at that.

  Cecily now wondered what had happened, since Nan had never confided in her again. George, her charming and handsome son, was a bumbler, a wastrel, half-witted at times, and quite incorrigible, really. Yet he was her son, and she did love him. Just as she loved Edward and Richard, but somehow these two seemed much more capable of taking care of themselves …

  Rising, Cecily crossed herself, turned and slowly walked up the aisle, wondering what would become of her sons and their families. And on this Boxing Day of 1918 she had no way of knowing that disaster hovered over the Deravenels, and that ultimately catastrophic events would change all of their lives. Irrevocably. And so much so that nothing would ever be the same again.

  TWENTY

  Mark Ledbetter had not been to Ravenscar for a long time, but even so he had not forgotten the spectacular view from the library windows.

  As he and Fenella were ushered into the room by Cecily Deravenel he did his best to curb the sudden urge to rush over to them to look out, to take pleasure in that unique vista.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you both,’ Cecily was saying, and then her face broke into smiles. ‘Ah, here’s Bess, your greatest admirer, Fenella. And Nanny with the other children.’

  A moment later Fenella and Cecily were surrounded by the youngsters, all clamouring for attention, and Mark took the opportunity to walk to the other end of the room.

  He stood in front of the set of French doors, looking out at the vast panoramic view of the North Sea and the flowing coastline of cream-coloured cliffs that stretched endlessly before his eyes. The sea had a metallic shine this afternoon, painted with great rafts of sunlight. The sky, often so moody and leaden on this unique stretch of the northern coast, was a radiant periwinkle blue with only a few scraps of white cloud floating on high.

  The ancient house, built on top of the cliffs, had an extraordinary vantage point, and now, as he continued to stare out of the windows, he saw two great ships on the far horizon, ploughing their way through the turbulent waters. It was windy today, and the North Sea was restless, crested with white foam.

  Turning around, Mark allowed his eyes to sweep the room for a moment, admiringly, taking in the soaring shelves of books, the memorable paintings on one wall, and the handsome antiques made of dark, ripe woods. There were comfortable sofas and chairs arranged near the huge stone fireplace where a log fire was blazing. It was a pleasure to be in such a well-appointed room.

  His eyes settled on Fenella, who was momentarily preoccupied with the group of youngsters, and he had to admit he had never seen such beautiful children in his entire life. To him they might have just stepped out of a portrait by one of the great classical portraitists of the eighteenth century, such as Thomas Gainsborough, George Romney, or Sir Joshua Reynolds.

  As young Deravenels clustered around Fenella, a hint of regret touched a corner of Mark’s mind, and he suddenly wished she had had children. Most certainly hers would have been as lovely as those who now circled her, affectionately demanding her attention. But her husband Jeremy had been killed when he was young, early in her marriage to him. Fenella was a beauty with her liquid grey eyes, so translucent, her silky blonde hair shimmering around her softly-contoured face. And she was willowy, tall, with enormous elegance. And yes, her children would have been as lovely as she was.

  Mark focused on the five Deravenels; he was enamoured of them at this moment. A long time ago, when their father had been a bachelor, Edward Deravenel had frequently been called the Golden Boy by many of his contemporaries. And his children were certainly golden, with their polished good looks, their vividness of colouring – that glorious red-gold hair, the shining blue eyes. He saw that each one of them had a perfect little face, beautifully sculpted, the features fine, delicate, aristocratic. How innocent they were, and precious. Children so lovely that they were breathtaking. They must always be properly protected … it was a dangerous world out there …

  He tore his mind away from his inner thoughts when Cecily came to him. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to abandon you so abruptly, Mark. I was hoping to prevent the children from taking Fenella for themselves.’

  Mark laughed. ‘But it seems they have.’

  ‘Yes, indeed. How is your mother?’

  ‘She’s quite remarkable, and she sends you her best wishes, and her love. She told me to remind you about the fun you and she and Fenella’s Aunt Philomena had on Christmases long ago, when you were all single young women … debutantes together.’

  Cecily started to laugh. ‘We did indeed, and I think we were … well, to tell you the truth, I think the three of us were quite incorrigible.’ Clearing her throat, she continued, ‘Elizabeth will join us shortly. She had to take a telephone call just as you were arriving. Ah, and here is Ned, finally. Walking rather badly, I’m afraid, after his fall.’

  ‘He had a fall?’ Mark frowned, staring at her. He was obviously taken by surprise and it showed in his dark brown eyes suddenly full of concern.

  ‘Yes, he did. This morning. He tumbled down the steps outside the breakfast room.’

  Edward, leaning heavily on a stout walking stick, came slowly towards them, and as he stopped in front of Mark and his mother, he offered the other man his hand, along with a rueful smile.

  ‘Excuse me, I see Jessup hovering. I believe he wants to speak to me,’ Cecily murmured, and hurried towards the doorway, leaving the two men alone.

  ‘How did you manage to fall?’ Mark inquired, peering at Edward, concern still registering.

  ‘I went arse over tit on the flagstone steps outside which were covered with ice. My own fault. I wasn’t paying attention. There was a hell of a rumpus going on outdoors … with the children. They were shouting, screaming and the dog was barking. So yes, like a worried, doting father I rushed out, and I was rather hasty I must admit as I plunged down those steps. I hadn’t even thought of ice.’

  Mark eyed him quickly, noted the black eye, the grazed cheek, and the heavily bruised chin. ‘You must have taken quite a tumble,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘I did, and I was frightfully lucky.’

  ‘I’ll say. I hope you’ve seen a doctor.’

  ‘Yes. As a matter of fact, Young Edward has had a bout of bronchitis, and our local doctor happened to be arriving here to check on him this morning, when Jessup and two of the stable lads were bringing me indoors.’

  ‘He gave you a thorough examination?’

  ‘Indeed he did. But I promised him I would go to Guy’s Hospital when I get back to London in a couple of days, to see Michael Robertson who looked after me years ago. Would you mind if we sit down over there on the chairs, Ledbetter? This wonky leg is giving me the gyp.’

  ‘Let’s sit, of course,’ Mark agreed at once.

  ‘So tell me, when are you going back to the Yard?’ Edward asked, once they were comfortably settled in two armchairs close to the fireplace. ‘Will Hasling told me you are to be given quite a big promotion.’

  ‘I am, yes. Actually, it’s going to be announced relatively soon. I shall become Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Force at Scotland Yard.’
>
  ‘Congratulations!’ Edward leaned back in his chair, smiling at the other man. ‘I’m pleased for you. It’s a worthy promotion.’

  Mark laughed. ‘I know, but I wanted to go back anyway, to be frank. I have rather missed the Yard, to tell you the truth. My War Office job was all right, and I had to do it, but I found myself bogged down in paperwork at times.’

  ‘So, there you were, dealing with paper, and we all thought you were dealing with spies,’ Edward remarked, his tone jocular.

  ‘I was in a way, but not exactly face to face,’ Mark explained, smiling. ‘In other words, whilst I was with the British Secret Service, I wasn’t out in the field.’

  ‘You probably thought your wartime job was boring, but surely safer, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Indeed it was, Deravenel, and I must admit I did feel I was making a contribution to the war effort.’

  At this moment Elizabeth arrived, looking extremely beautiful in a beige wool suit and several strings of fabulous pearls. ‘Do excuse me,’ she exclaimed, thrusting her hand at Mark, who had risen. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I had to speak to my mother on the telephone.’

  Mark nodded his understanding, and then glanced over at the children, who were nearby and still surrounding Fenella. ‘They are all very beautiful, Elizabeth, and such a credit to you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Cecily returned to the library, followed by Jessup and three of the parlour maids who were pushing tea trolleys, which they stationed near the piano at the entrance to the room.

  Edward said, ‘I think Jessup is going to announce tea is served at any moment.’

  Fenella, having broken free of the younger set, hurried to sit with Elizabeth and Edward, and after kissing them both, she said to Ned, ‘Oh, poor you, your poor face. Your mother told me about your dreadful fall.’

  ‘The least said about that the better. I was an utter fool, Fenella, the way I rushed outside without thinking, and all because of the dog barking and Mary screaming. It turned out to be nothing, actually.’

  Fenella smiled at him. They had known each other for years, and she had always been his great defender and advocate; she loved him like a brother. ‘Oh yes,’ she murmured. ‘I heard all about the dog from Young Edward.’

  Ned began to laugh. ‘Can you imagine such a name for a dog? Macbeth?’

  They all chuckled, and Fenella confided, ‘I understand from its little owner that when he said he wanted to choose a Scottish name, because the dog was a West Highland terrier, it was Nanny who suggested Macbeth.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  Cecily joined the four of them once more, and murmured softly, ‘I think Jessup wishes to serve tea. Perhaps you would like to come and sit over here, Fenella, with me. And Elizabeth. Nanny will look after the children. Over there.’ She nodded her head in the direction of the windows. ‘Where they can have their own little tea party.’

  Taking a deep breath, Fenella rose, took a step forward, announced swiftly and very unexpectedly, ‘I, rather, we have something to tell you all. Mark and I have just become engaged.’

  As she spoke Mark also stood up, stepped over to her and took hold of her hand. ‘That’s one of the reasons we wanted to come over to see you today, to give you our news,’ she finished, her eyes sparkling, her smile radiant.

  Edward, Elizabeth and Cecily all offered them their heartfelt congratulations, and then Elizabeth exclaimed, ‘Thank goodness you’re not going to be an old maid left on the shelf after all. As everyone thought you would be.’

  There was a sudden silence.

  Ned threw his wife a furious look, and his mother’s expression was one of utter dismay mingled with embarrassment.

  Fenella Fayne had always known that Elizabeth disliked her, mostly because she was jealous of her relationship with Ned. But being a woman of true breeding, a titled woman in her own right and well brought up, she never stooped to other people’s levels. She was also a calm person, and controlled. Finally, smiling widely at them, she said in a clear, steady voice, ‘Between widowhood, starting up the Haddon House charity, and the war, I seem to have been somewhat preoccupied until now.’

  Ignoring Elizabeth’s jibe, Mark put his arm around Fenella, and looked down at her, then said lovingly to the others, ‘I’ve been pestering her to marry me for years and she has finally said yes at last. To my utmost joy.’

  Cecily hurried across to Fenella and hugged her affectionately, and then turning, taking Elizabeth’s arm, she eased her up from the chair, and said to her daughter-in-law, ‘Perhaps we should get the children organized, so that our guests can have afternoon tea in peace.’

  ‘But Nanny’s in con –’

  ‘Come along, Elizabeth,’ Cecily ordered in the sternest of voices, hurrying her forward, throwing a pointed look at her son as they moved towards the windows where Nanny was settling the children.

  Fenella sat down on the sofa and looked at Edward intently. ‘There’s something I did want to ask you, Ned darling. I do hope you will allow your girls to be my bridesmaids? I would love it if you would. Please say yes.’

  ‘But of course I say yes,’ he cried, his bright blue eyes lighting up.

  She offered him a happy smile, and the swift look they exchanged signalled his dismay at his wife’s words, and her total lack of concern about them. They had always been able to read each other’s thoughts and they understood each other.

  In a lower tone, she now asked, ‘I would like Grace Rose to be a bridesmaid as well, if that’s all right with you. I do love her so, and she’s very special to me, you know.’

  ‘That is a marvellous idea! And I certainly don’t have any objections. And I know Vicky won’t either, she’ll be happy.’

  ‘I haven’t asked her yet, Ned. In fact, we haven’t told anyone we’re getting married, you’re the first to know.’

  ‘I had to tackle her father over Christmas,’ Mark announced. He sat down next to Ned and added, ‘I was certainly relieved when the Earl gave us his blessing.’

  Jessup arrived, ushered one of the parlour maids towards them, looking at Edward questioningly, who nodded. The maid was pushing a tea trolley, and came to stop at the fireside; Jessup poured cups of tea for them whilst the maid handed them small napkins and plates. Then she offered a large plate of tea sandwiches, including smoked salmon, egg salad, cucumber, tomatoes, and ham and cheese.

  A ringing telephone took Jessup away from them for a few moments, and when he returned to the library he hurried to Edward, whispered something to him. Edward nodded.

  ‘Thank you, Jessup,’ he replied, and offered his hand to the butler. ‘Help me up, would you, please?’

  Once he was on his feet, Edward said to Fenella and Mark, ‘So sorry, an urgent telephone call. I won’t be too long, I’m sure.’

  Edward limped across the library, leaning heavily on his cane. He picked up the phone which stood on a small table in the Long Hall.

  ‘Deravenel here,’ he said. And then he listened acutely, and in some astonishment, as a barrage of words flowed down the wire from Scotland. And without pause.

  Finally, the caller stopped to draw breath and Edward answered in the most conciliatory voice he could muster, ‘I understand everything you’re saying, Ian, and I am in total agreement with you. At this moment I have guests. But I believe we can sort this out tomorrow, I’m quite sure of that.’

  After Ian MacDonald agreed to speak with him the next day, the Scotsman hung up abruptly, without saying another word, not even goodbye.

  Edward stood there for a moment. Stunned. His face was white with fury. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself before returning to the library. But it was quite a while before he felt able to do so.

  TWENTY-ONE

  London 1919

  ‘I’m sorry to have brought you in on a Saturday, Amos,’ Edward apologized. ‘But I do really need your assistance.’

  ‘That’s all right, Mr Edward,’ Amos answered. ‘To tell yo
u the truth, I’m glad to be here, I’ve nothing better to do. So, how can I be of help, sir?’

  ‘I want you to break into one of the offices. The only thing is, it mustn’t look like a break-in. If anyone can do that, you can.’

  ‘Beg pardon, sir, but I’m assuming it’s Mr George’s office you want me to break into, isn’t it?’

  Edward laughed a little hollowly. How well Amos understood the lay of the land around here. ‘It is indeed. Let’s get started, shall we?’

  Standing up, Edward strode across the room, followed by Amos, who was explaining, ‘I just have to pop into my office to collect my kit, sir. Give me a jiffy.’

  Edward nodded, and continued on down the corridor in the direction of his brother’s office, thinking about George. He had gone into hiding, so to speak, but Edward knew very well where he was – huddling behind the skirts of the women in his family, his wife Isabel and his mother-in-law, Nan Watkins. Little good that would do him. What a fool he was, a blithering idiot who didn’t have the brains he was born with. After speaking with Ian MacDonald several times and receiving a full report about the débâcle in Edinburgh, Edward was fully aware that he had to render George powerless. And immediately. A demotion was all there was for it. Edward grimaced to himself; if he could get his hands on George at this moment he would cheerfully strangle him.

  He leaned against the door jamb, waiting for Amos, who was now hurrying down the corridor. ‘Don’t push yourself, Amos,’ Edward muttered. ‘There’s plenty of time. No one’s likely to arrive here on Saturday, and something of a holiday Saturday at that.’ It was the fourth of January, and people were still celebrating the advent of the New Year, 1919. The beginning of the peace, and a year when anything and everything was possible, so the politicians were pronouncing at any rate.