Heirs of Ravenscar

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  But nonetheless she occupied a house that was renowned for its beauty, grace and elegance.

  ‘You live in total luxury! You wear couture clothes by some of the greatest couturiers in the world. You are bedecked in jewels. I give you anything you want, I deny you nothing. And you gossip about me! You. My wife,’ he cried, almost choking on the words in his spiralling rage. ‘It beggars belief. And the gossip is all lies.’

  She shrank farther back on the chair, not daring to say a word to defend herself, because she knew she couldn’t.

  He stepped closer, stood towering over her, looking down at her, an expression of total disgust on his face.

  She swallowed, tried to keep calm. She did not fear him physically. He would not strike or hit a woman ever. He was too gentle to do that; too much of a gentleman, as well. Physical violence of any kind appalled him. But his words hurt, they always had. He became more articulate than ever when he was enraged, as he was now; his words pierced her soul. How stupid she was. Why did she say bad things? He was right. She was stupid.

  Almost as if he had read her mind, Ned leaned down, brought his face closer to hers, and asked in a cold voice, ‘Why? Why have you invented this story about Fenella? Why have you said she is Grace Rose’s mother? Why, Elizabeth? In God’s name, why?’

  ‘I-I-don’t know,’ she mumbled, her voice shaky.

  ‘It’s because you want to hurt me, isn’t it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Oh yes, it is,’ he snapped, his voice cold, hard. ‘You are so insanely jealous of every woman I know you need to hit back at me, just for smiling at one of them. Or having a long platonic friendship with some of them, such as Fenella whom I have known for donkeys’ years. And what about Vicky? Is she next? Are you going to malign her? Tell wicked lies about her soon?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. She had no defence. Her brother was always telling her she was a fool, and he was correct. Why did she do these stupid things? Was Ned right? Was it jealousy? Looking up at him, looking into that furious face, those cold blue eyes, she began to weep.

  ‘Stop that!’ he shouted in her face. ‘Stop it, do you hear me! Your tears are meaningless to me. You’ve caused horrendous damage to our name. More importantly, you have damaged Fenella’s name, hurt a woman who has been deathly ill with pneumonia. And all because you can’t rule me, make me do your bidding, have things your way. You disgust me.’

  ‘I’m sorry –’ she began.

  ‘No, you’re not, not really. You never are. You’re like George. Always creating havoc and not really caring that you have.’

  ‘Don’t say I’m like G-G-G-eorge,’ she stuttered, losing the last remnants of her composure.

  Ignoring this comment, he leaned down, brought his face close to hers once more. ‘Listen to me, Madam. And pay attention to my words. Because I will not repeat them. If you ever again dare to say a bad word about me or any of my friends to anyone, and that includes your family and mine, I will leave you. Or rather, you will leave me. I will have you removed from this house, and you will go to live in the country, where I shall buy a small cottage for you. You will have a reasonable allowance for your upkeep. And you will stay there permanently, out of London society. You will not live in this house with me ever again, nor in London. You will, very simply, be banished to live the country life. I will give you certain access to our children, not that you actually really care for any of them, except perhaps Young Edward. And that’s because he’s the heir, and important to your future if you outlive me. Do you understand me? I will send you away.’

  She merely nodded, shaking, knowing full well that he was capable of doing exactly that. There was a ruthless streak in Ned, and he never ever made idle threats. He always did what he said he was going to do.

  Ned swung around without another word, strode towards the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she whispered.

  ‘Out,’ he answered laconically, and left, slamming the door behind him.

  He ran downstairs, found Mallet in the pantry, and said, ‘Oh, there you are, Mallet. I will not be here for dinner after all. Would you please pack a small valise for me, with the usual items, fresh linen, my shaving tackle. I shall be spending the night at my club.’

  ‘Immediately, sir.’

  ‘Take your time, Mallet, I have an engagement this evening. I will send Broadbent back, once I arrive at my destination, and he will take the bag from you.’

  ‘I’ll have it ready, Mr Deravenel.’

  ‘Thanks, Mallet, and goodnight. You can lock up after Broadbent collects the bag.’

  ‘Yes, sir, and goodnight.’

  The butler stood at the open front door, watching him go down the steps to the Rolls-Royce which was parked outside. Edward Deravenel was such a good man, so philanthropic, always helping those in need, those less fortunate. He was very charitable, Mr Deravenel was. Pity he was married to a shrew. A woman who drove him away from her constantly. What a fool she is, he muttered under his breath, filled with dislike for the lady of the house. Some lady, he added to himself, with a stab of disdain as he closed the front door and went off to pack the valise.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘I want a divorce,’ Edward said quietly, his blue eyes focused on his mother with great intensity.

  Cecily Deravenel, startled though she was, remained absolutely silent for a moment. She sat back in the chair and regarded her eldest son. ‘So it’s come to that has it, Ned? Finally.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Elizabeth is just …’ He paused, sought the right word, the right phrase, ‘impossible to live with. She’s rather dangerous as well, in my opinion. She’s liable to say anything about me, invent anything she wants, and about the Deravenels in general, if she sees fit.’

  Cecily frowned. Her greyish-blue eyes, so like her son Richard’s eyes, became reflective, and a sense of enormous dismay flooded her. ‘Something has happened that has genuinely upset you, Ned. I can see that you are not in a very good state of mind. In fact, I thought you looked distraught when you arrived. What is this all about? You’d better tell me, darling. We must talk about this, and perhaps between us we can sort it out to your satisfaction.’

  Edward sat back on the sofa, crossed his long legs and took a deep breath. ‘She’s been spreading a ridiculous story about me, one which impugns Fenella’s reputation. She apparently told one of her sisters, more than likely Iris, the dunderhead, who told Maude Tillotson, who told someone else, and it went around like wildfire, to use Vicky’s words.’

  ‘You and Fenella,’ Cecily murmured, her eyes narrowing. ‘But you’ve only ever been good friends, nothing else. Why would she pick on someone like Fenella, who is so revered by everyone?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps that’s why, the reason. Fenella is beloved by all of her friends, and even people who don’t even know her at all well.’

  ‘Are you saying that Elizabeth has actually accused you of having … an affair with Fenella?’

  ‘Yes, and a continuing one.’ He leaned forward. ‘And it only gets worse.’ Edward now told his mother the entire story, as he had heard it earlier that day from Vicky Forth.

  ‘But this is outrageous,’ his mother exclaimed when he had finished, looking horrified. ‘Elizabeth is clearly determined to make a great deal of trouble for you.’ She shook her head in genuine puzzlement. ‘How perfectly ridiculous of her, and vindictive, to say the least.’ Cecily paused, glanced at the fire, her mind working with its usual rapidity and clarity. She said at last, ‘What she has done, Ned, is really quite … wicked.’

  ‘And destructive.’

  ‘When did you find out?’ Cecily asked anxiously, disturbed by her daughter-in-law’s treacherous behaviour.

  ‘This afternoon. I went to tea with Vicky and my friend. The purpose of the tea was for me to give Vicky a cheque for the recreation centre she and Fenella are starting, for wounded veterans. I told you about it.’

  ‘How generous of you,’ his mother answered
. ‘So you found out earlier today and went home to tackle Elizabeth. Is that the way it was?’

  ‘Yes, yes it was. She tried to deny it, but I wasn’t having any of that. I threatened to send her to live in the country, very modestly so. And alone … if she ever spoke about me or any of my friends in a derogatory way ever again.’

  ‘That was good thinking on your part. She couldn’t stand that – living modestly anywhere – but especially in the country, cut off from London society. That’s her whole world.’

  ‘I know, but I can’t help wondering if she’ll toe the line. That’s why I thought of getting a divorce, getting rid of her in a legal sense, and so I came to talk to you about it.’

  ‘Do you really want a divorce, Ned? Think of the consequences most carefully, and also do not let us forget that we’re Catholic.’

  ‘How much does religion matter these days, Mama?’ He suddenly laughed a little hollowly. ‘We once had a Catholic king, a few hundred years ago, who broke with the Pope and Rome in order to get a divorce –’

  ‘Yes, and he became a Protestant,’ Cecily rejoined, cutting across him.

  ‘Very true, Mother.’

  ‘Let me ask you a particularly sensitive question,’ Cecily began cautiously, shifting slightly in the chair, looking across at her son carefully. ‘Do you wish to marry Mrs Shaw?’

  ‘I don’t know. However, I don’t think I count very much in that decision. I am quite certain Jane does not want to marry me, and wouldn’t marry me, even if I were suddenly free.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ Cecily asked in surprise.

  ‘If she and I married, she would think I had created a job vacancy – for a mistress. And that she couldn’t and wouldn’t tolerate. At least that’s what I believe.’

  Cecily smiled at him, then sighed, became very quiet, fell down into herself, thinking hard. After a second or two, she said in an extremely sober and concerned voice, ‘What prompted Elizabeth to tell this rather ridiculous story? To hurt you? Or was it more out of jealousy … jealousy of Jane Shaw?’

  ‘I think both points are relevant … it’s not only about hurting me, Mother, and it’s not only about being jealous of Jane. She’s jealous of any other female, whatever her age, who comes near me, or whom I seem to favour.’

  He stood up, went over to the fireplace, planted himself in front of it in his usual way, and after a moment’s silence he continued. ‘At Christmas she was even jealous of her own daughter, of a nine-year-old child, for heaven’s sake. She was really angry because I had bought Bess that little Victorian brooch. It was actually made for a child, and so small. So insignificant – silver with a few tiny diamond chips. It was not an expensive gift, cost almost nothing. However, Elizabeth took exception to it – just imagine, a gift from me, Bess’s father to our own daughter. Outrageous, frankly.’

  ‘Yes, I know, I found it rather strange myself,’ Cecily admitted.

  ‘Then there’s Grace Rose,’ Edward resumed. ‘At times, Elizabeth has been very jealous of her, and of my relationship with Grace Rose. And also yours with the girl, actually. Although I’m quite sure Elizabeth has never said anything to you about it. In the last few weeks my wife has been very sarcastic about the girls being bridesmaid for Fenella.’ Edward shrugged, lifted his hands helplessly, and shook his head in bewilderment.

  ‘She is obviously extremely jealous by nature, and perhaps envious. I must confess I’ve noticed it from time to time … Elizabeth appears to resent it when you show any kindness to other women or interest in them, however platonic that interest is,’ Cecily pointed out. ‘Ned, that’s rather … sick. What I mean is that this kind of behaviour is definitely irrational and demonstrates, to me at least, a sick mind. A delusional mind, in my opinion. I wonder what the clever Dr Sigmund Freud would make of your wife?’ She raised a brow.

  ‘Is that what you think, Mother? That Elizabeth needs to be treated by a psychiatrist?’

  ‘Perhaps she does. Let us not become sidetracked though. I want you to listen to me, and very carefully. First of all, if you start divorce proceedings, you’re going to expose yourself and the family to untold trouble and nasty gossip. Elizabeth will be so angry and outraged she’ll go to any lengths to destroy you. She’ll hire the best lawyers, extremely tough lawyers, who will have no qualms about crucifying you. They’ll put private investigators on you, and they’ll dig deep, very, very deep. They’ll be into every nook and cranny of your life. She’ll have Mrs Shaw hounded. Vicky and Grace Rose will become targets. There will be a monumental scandal, Ned, and we cannot afford that, now can we?’

  ‘No, we can’t, Mother, I realize you’re right. We don’t need a scandal, or our name besmirched any more than it has been by George and his ghastly gambling debts. And thanks again for bailing him out, and especially for making certain he paid me back.’

  Cecily nodded, and gave Edward a long look, but made no comment.

  Edward was also silent, gazing at her thoughtfully. He hadn’t meant to bring George’s name into this conversation; it had just slipped out. He knew he had to accept the fact that for some reason his mother had always protected George, ever since his childhood. He supposed she would continue to do so until the day she died. And that was her right; she could do whatever she wanted.

  Cecily announced softly, ‘I really do think a divorce is the wrong way to go, darling. Under the circumstances. Don’t you?’

  He nodded, then groaned, answered her in a weary voice. ‘What on earth can I do, though? How can I live with her after this? After this terrible act of … yes, wickedness, as you called it.’

  His mother said quietly, but in a very confident and self-assured tone, ‘You have probably frightened her to death, really scared her, by saying you’ll send her to live in the country. Was that an idle threat, Ned? Or did you really mean it?’

  ‘I did indeed mean it. You see, it would be the only thing I could do. Get her out of my hair that way, rather than divorcing her.’

  ‘I agree. So this is my advice to you. Forget divorce, or a legal separation, and go the other route. Continue to live your life as you have been leading it. However, get away more, to be alone, and I do mean alone. Take some trips with Will Hasling, or Richard, and play the game as you’ve always played it, by being a good, considerate, kind husband, generous to a fault, who has his own private life on the side, like most men of your class do. Be discreet. Especially in regard to Mrs Shaw. Don’t create any problems, in other words. Just go about your business in the same way you have all of the years you’ve been married. And remember, at the back of your mind you know that you can send Elizabeth to live in the country if you so wish. I can assure you she won’t forget that threat. It will haunt her.’

  ‘It will indeed, and I’ll do as you suggest, Mother.’

  ‘There is one other thing,’ Cecily ventured. ‘Don’t be too forgiving too quickly, Ned. Keep her at a distance, as best you can. Also, don’t do anything foolish, but remember you are holding all of the cards. It is, after all, your money and power that support her position, and especially in society. She would prefer to die rather than lose that.’

  ‘You’re correct there. What about the girls being bridesmaids for Fenella, Mother? How shall I handle that?’

  ‘Good Lord, Ned, need you ask? Surely not. Of course they are going to be Fenella’s bridesmaids: she and her father, the Earl of Tanfield, and her siblings, have been lifelong friends of mine. I won’t hear a word of complaint from your wife about the girls being attendants at Fenella’s marriage. We agreed, and the Deravenels never go back on their word. Onto another matter: where were you going when you passed by Charles Street, and decided to come in to seek my advice?’ Cecily asked with a knowing smile, her eyes suddenly twinkling.

  ‘I was on my way to my club, actually.’

  ‘Don’t go to White’s, darling. Not tonight. A man’s club is cold comfort when he has marital problems. Go and see your friend instead. Much better for your well-being, and general state of mi
nd, to have a woman’s tender loving care.’

  Cecily Deravenel remained seated near the fireplace in her small sitting room long after her son had left, her thoughts on him. She had always known that Elizabeth Wyland was the wrong woman for Ned, from the first moment she had met her.

  But it was too late to influence him in any way. He had married her in secret; that marriage, impulsive and regrettable, had been the cause of the trouble between Ned and Neville Watkins, had created a terrible rift in the family which had never truly healed. At least not until Neville and John Watkins had died in that ghastly crash at Ravenscar. Only then had the women of the family come together to comfort each other. And the breach had been healed at last.

  Ned was not happy in his marriage, everyone knew that, and it was mainly because of Elizabeth’s character and personality. She was an avaricious, ambitious woman, and jealous. Cecily knew only too well that her daughter-in-law was shallow, lacked compassion.

  And yet she still somehow managed to lure Ned into her bed, held him through sex, there was no question about that. And their sexual union kept producing these glorious children.

  Cecily’s thoughts went to her grandchildren – those darling, beautiful girls, and the two little boys, just as handsome and endearing as the girls were pretty. She focused for a moment on her beloved Bess, who at nine years old was quite extraordinary, not only lovely to look at but lovely inside. She cherished them all, of course, but there was something special about Bess, and Cecily expected great things from her. The girl was practical, down to earth, and resourceful, more like her father than her mother.

  When Ned had mentioned divorce a short while ago, Cecily had been dumbfounded. It was the first time he had ever brought up the subject, and the mere thought of it frightened her. She believed it was far better for her son to continue living his life the way he had all these years of his marriage, rather than create problems which inevitably would lead to bitterness and resentment.