The Ravenscar Dynasty

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Glancing around, she noticed a number of children playing on the grass. Some were rolling hoops, others were throwing balls to each other, and they all seemed to be so happy and carefree. There was nothing like the frolicking of children to cheer the spirits.

  A few women were taking an afternoon stroll, walking along in pairs; there were several nannies out, pushing large perambulators in front of them; and she spotted several courting couples arm-in-arm, moving slowly under the trees.

  Otherwise there was not much other traffic in the park today, only a couple of carriages in the distance. How tranquil it was, this little green haven in the middle of the largest and most important city in the world.

  ‘Good Lord!’ Vicky exclaimed shrilly. ‘What’s going on ahead of us? Look at the rider on that big charcoal stallion! Oh my God, he can’t control the horse! It seems to be having some sort of a fit, stamping its hooves and rearing. Look now, Lily. Look how he is rearing up on his hind legs.’

  ‘I can’t see!’ Lily craned her neck even more, shuddered involuntarily and cried to her driver, ‘Robin! Please pay attention to that horse up ahead. There’s something wrong with it. Oh my God, it’s bolted. It’s heading this way, with the rider clinging on for dear life!’

  Vicky was staring ahead, keeping her eyes pinned on the rider and the horse, her heart in her mouth. The man was endeavouring to restrain the stallion, but it appeared to be beyond him. The horse was coming towards them, hell bent for leather, throwing its head backwards, snorting, its nostrils flaring. There was foam on its wide mouth; it bared its big white teeth. The rider seemed panicked, and as he drew closer to their carriage Vicky noticed that he was handsome in a fleshy way, with dark eyes and hair, and a long scar on one cheek. He looked foreign to her. He stared at her for a brief moment through hard eyes. He glanced longer at Lily, Vicky thought. She felt herself recoil, shivering.

  ‘Robin, try to calm the greys!’ Vicky shouted.

  ‘Stop moving! Stop!’ Lily screamed. ‘For God’s sake stop the carriage moving, Robin. There’s going to be an accident.’

  ‘I can’t curb them, Mrs Overton,’ Robin shouted back over his shoulder, every muscle straining as he pulled on the reins.

  Everyone had seen the horse and rider, and children were brought onto the grass, were running under the trees, away from the main avenue which cut through the park.

  Suddenly the horse and rider were upon them, only a few feet away from the landau. The great horse reared up on its back legs, snorting and tossing its head again, now immediately in front of the greys. They instantly reacted, stamping their feet. And then they bolted.

  They were moving too fast now, Lily understood that at once. Robin was struggling, pulling on the reins but the horses and the landau had taken off at high speed. The animals had been totally frightened by the stallion and were out of control.

  It seemed to Vicky that everything happened very fast. Lily was shouting orders, as was she; Robin was doing his best to bring the greys to a halt, but with no success. Suddenly the horses increased their pace. Vicky clung to the side of the carriage, as did Lily. And then it happened. The carriage tipped over.

  Vicky felt herself flying up out of her seat and being thrown sideways. She screamed. A moment later she was lying on the grass at the side of the avenue, stunned.

  Lily had tried to grab hold of Vicky with no success, and had been thrown out of the carriage as well; she herself was now sprawled on the ground, and a portion of the landau was covering her lower body, pinning her down.

  Pandemonium broke out.

  People were hurrying to them.

  Robin, bathed in perspiration, his face stricken, was trying to reach Lily, who was partially on the grass, partially on the road.

  Groaning, swallowing, Vicky opened her eyes and immediately saw horses’ hooves and she recoiled at once, crying out, thinking it was the wild stallion.

  ‘It’s Mrs Forth, isn’t it? Stephen Forth’s wife?’ a cultured voice was asking her.

  Vicky raised her eyes, saw a man dressed in proper English riding clothes; he was mounted on a roan, looking down at her through worried eyes.

  She nodded, and whispered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘My name is Horace Bainbridge, Stephen and I belong to the same club. I’m sure you’re hurt. Do you think you are, Mrs Forth? You must be.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Vicky responded, her voice raspy. ‘My leg hurts. It could be broken.’ Glancing towards Lily, she went on urgently, ‘Please. Go and help my friend, help her driver. He’s trying to lift the carriage off her body.’

  ‘Certainly I will, at once. And I shall telephone your husband at the bank. Ah, I see policemen coming. I shall tell them ambulances are required.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Vicky whispered.

  The man on the horse had trotted off; she could see him talking to the police. Now he was coming back, heading for the landau to help Robin.

  Vicky pushed herself up on her elbows, began to drag herself across the grass to Lily. As she drew closer her throat tightened; dread flooded through her. Finally she reached her friend, took hold of her hand, held it tightly in hers.

  She could see Lily better now. The images hurt her eyes…the blue tricorn hat lying on the ground…the white ostrich feathers fluttering in the breeze…Lily’s white face…oh so very white. And the blood…so much blood…staining the pale blue silk…

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Ravenscar

  Edward sat reading in a corner of the library, immersed in Our Mutual Friend, one of the novels by Charles Dickens which he had not read before. It had been published in 1865, and was one of the author’s last books. Edward was enjoying it, found it fascinating, even though the rowdiness from the other side of the library was beginning to annoy him.

  Suddenly he sat up straighter and banged the book down on the small occasional table. ‘Stop it, George! You’re being intolerable,’ he exclaimed, glaring at his brother.

  ‘It’s not me making the racket, it’s Richard!’ George cried, glaring back.

  ‘Why are you always so ridiculous, George? And such a little liar. Of course it’s not Richard, it’s your voice I hear. Do you think I’m deaf? Or that I cannot distinguish the difference in your voices?’

  George’s bravado fled; he sat back in the chair, looking sulky, his mouth drooping at the corners. For a moment he hated his older brother.

  Richard said, ‘It’s all right, Ned, I don’t mind that he shouts a lot, although I do care that George says I don’t know how to play chess.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, Little Fish. And you certainly can play, and very well. After all, I taught you, and you’ve beaten me many times.’

  Will began to laugh. ‘You all sound just like my brothers…Goodness me, I might well be at home at this very moment.’

  ‘But you are at home,’ Ned shot back, laughing. ‘My home is your home, and it always will be wherever I am in this world.’

  At this moment Jessup came in carrying a tray with a coffee pot on it and cups and saucers. After placing it at the end of the long magazine table, he looked across at Edward and asked, ‘I was wondering if you and Mr Hasling would like a digestif with your coffee, Mr Edward? Perhaps a cognac?’

  ‘I think I would, thank you, Jessup. How about you, Will?’ He glanced at his friend, smiling, his geniality restored.

  ‘Why not? Thank you very much.’

  George said, ‘I’d like a brandy, Jessup.’

  ‘Not on your life!’ Edward said swiftly. ‘Just bring the two cognacs please, Jessup.’

  The butler nodded and hurried out.

  ‘When can I have a cognac after dinner then?’ George asked, suddenly belligerent, a tone which Edward well recognized.

  ‘Not for a very, very long time,’ Edward shot back. ‘When you’re grown up, not until then, rest assured of that.’

  George did not respond; he lolled in the chair, his sulky expression settling on his face. Moody and put out, he retreated into himsel
f as he did when he felt thwarted.

  Richard, aware of the sudden tension in the room, said in a placating voice, ‘It was kind of Uncle Neville to invite us to Thorpe Manor for lunch on Whit Sunday, wasn’t it, Ned?’

  ‘Indeed it was. I’m looking forward to it, and I’m sure you are, too. You’ll see Anne, and you, George, will see Isabel—’ Edward broke off as Jessup appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Yes, Jessup, what is it?’ he asked.

  ‘A telephone call, sir, for Mr Hasling.’

  Will put down the London Illustrated he was reading and rose, hurried across the floor, glancing at Ned, shrugging to indicate his bafflement. He said, ‘Please excuse me, Ned. I wonder who it can be calling at this hour?’

  A moment later Will was picking up the receiver in the Long Hall. ‘Will Hasling here.’

  ‘Hello, Will, it’s Stephen.’

  ‘Stephen!’ he exclaimed, surprised to hear from his brother-in-law, frowning. ‘Is everything all right?’

  There was a moment’s hesitation at the other end of the line, and then Stephen Forth answered in a tightly controlled voice, ‘I’m afraid not. There’s been a dreadful accident, a terrible accident, Will. Vicky and Lily were involved. They were injured today—’

  ‘Oh my God, no!’ Will cut in, and clutched the receiver tighter. ‘What happened? Tell me what happened. Are they seriously hurt?’

  Stephen began to speak, his voice shaking at times as he explained what had occurred in Hyde Park that afternoon, and Will sat down heavily on the wooden hall chair, his heart sinking as he heard the disastrous news.

  After he had hung up the telephone, Will sat for a moment or two trying to compose himself. Finally he rose, a little shakily, and as he turned around he saw Ned coming out of the library into the Long Hall.

  ‘You were so long on the telephone, Will, I began to think something was amiss—’ Ned broke off when he saw Will’s face, and he exclaimed, ‘You’re as white as a sheet! There’s something the matter.’ Edward hurried forward, took hold of his friend’s arm, saw the distress reflected in his eyes, felt Will’s entire body trembling.

  ‘What is it? Please tell me.’

  Will nodded, then swallowed. ‘Let’s go somewhere private, I need to speak to you alone.’

  ‘The Morning Room,’ Edward answered, and guided Will across the hall, wondering what on earth had happened to make him so upset. He just hoped it wasn’t something to do with his father’s health.

  Once inside the Morning Room, Will sat down in a chair and indicated that Edward should sit opposite.

  He did so, and said again, ‘Tell me what’s upsetting you, Will, please.’

  ‘It’s Vicky,’ Will began, and took a deep breath, tried to steady himself, ‘And Lily. They were in an accident this afternoon, and—’

  ‘Oh my God! Are they badly hurt?’ Edward asked, leaning forward, his eyes on Will, suddenly filled with apprehension.

  ‘Vicky has a broken leg and a broken rib, and her face is very, very badly bruised,’ Will began, and realized that his voice was shaking. He swallowed, and went on, ‘Lily has a broken shoulder and two fractured ribs—’

  ‘Thank God they’re both alive!’ Edward interjected, relief rushing through him. ‘Broken bones do eventually mend.’

  ‘Ned, Lily has…concussion…’ Will paused, shook his head, and added in a voice that was almost inaudible, ‘I’m so sorry…’ He shook his head once more, whispered hoarsely, ‘She lost…the baby, Ned.’

  ‘Oh, no, no,’ Ned muttered in a tone that was nothing much more than a whisper, and closed his eyes. After a few moments he opened them and stared at Will, sounding stunned as he said, ‘She so much wanted the child, and so did I, you know. I really did.’ He brought his hands to his face and wept.

  Will rose, went to Ned, and bending down, he put his arm around him. ‘I’m so sorry, so very, very sorry.’

  Ned clasped his friend’s hand, held it for a moment, and then he sat up straighter, looked into Will’s eyes. ‘Lily…and Vicky…they are going to be all right, aren’t they? You’re not holding anything back, are you, Will?’

  ‘No, not really,’ Will answered, his voice cracking. ‘Lily…well…actually she’s in a coma.’

  Edward said nothing, just gaped at Will and tears brimmed once again but remained unshed. His mouth was trembling as he asked, ‘People do come out of comas, Will, don’t they? She will, won’t she?’

  ‘Stephen was very hopeful, very positive. And they are now in the best of hands. Stephen has had them moved to the Masterson Private Clinic in Harley Street, and they are getting proper attention, the very best of medical care.’

  ‘I must go to London tomorrow, first thing,’ Ned announced softly, taking out his handkerchief, wiping his tear-streaked face.

  ‘I know you must. So must I. We will go together. We should catch the first train leaving York. At the crack of dawn.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about Vicky, Will. She’s not injured more than you’re saying?’

  ‘No. Vicky sustained the injuries I mentioned, and that’s all.’

  ‘What kind of an accident was it? You haven’t said anything to me about that.’

  ‘I know, but I wanted to inform you of their injuries first, and explain Lily’s condition, and—’ He stopped abruptly; he couldn’t say it again, he couldn’t mention the loss of the baby.

  Edward seemed to understand this without being told, and he murmured, ‘I always thought the baby would be a girl, I don’t know why but I did…’ His sentence trailed off and he leaned back in the chair, staring at Will, frowning. His bright blue eyes were red-rimmed. ‘Tell me how it happened, won’t you?’

  ‘Vicky and Lily lunched with Fenella today. At her house in Curzon Street. After lunching, Lily and Vicky went for a drive through Hyde Park…because it was such a lovely day, and anyway Lily was taking Vicky home to Kensington. Apparently a big horse, a huge charcoal stallion, suddenly went berserk on the main thoroughfare, and the rider was unable to control it. It galloped forward, caused Lily’s calm little greys to become upset, and they were so frightened they bolted. They just shot forward, trying to get away from the rampaging horse. They were going at quite a pace, very fast, and the landau overturned.’ Will shook his head, his distress apparent. ‘Stephen says that this style of carriage has a high centre of gravity, and that when it’s moving at great speed it’s not so manoeuvreable, that it’s prone to tilt to one side, and to roll over.’

  ‘And that’s what happened, isn’t it?’ Edward said in a low worried voice. ‘Christ Almighty! Lily and Vicky are very lucky they weren’t killed outright.’

  ‘I know,’ Will agreed. ‘Fortunately the police were on the scene within minutes, and an ambulance was sent for. Lily and Vicky were taken to the hospital at Hyde Park Corner, but later Stephen had them moved to the private clinic.’

  Edward took a deep breath, then blew out air, shook his head vehemently. ‘I’ve seen some really wild riders in the park lately, especially when I’ve been on Rotten Row. A lot of them don’t seem to be very good equestrians. And another thing, Will, what sort of man is it that cannot control his horse? I ask you that?’

  Will was silent, thinking of the things he was holding back, wondering whether or not he should reveal everything Stephen had told him.

  Almost as if reading his friend’s mind, Edward asked, ‘You have told me all of it, haven’t you? Is there anything else I should know?’

  When Will did not respond, Edward probed, ‘Is there something else? Please don’t keep me in the dark. This is all too serious. And don’t do my thinking for me either, especially if it’s about Lily and her condition.’

  ‘There is something, yes, Ned, but it’s not about Lily’s condition,’ Will finally responded. ‘It’s about Vicky actually, however, not her injuries. What it’s about is…well, she has a theory, Ned, about the accident.’

  ‘A theory?’ he repeated and frowned, perplexed.

  ‘She’s not sure it
was an accident, she thinks it might have been deliberate.’

  ‘Deliberate? How could it have been deliberate? You said the horse went out of control—’ Edward paused and fixed his eyes on Will, giving him a shrewd look. ‘We’re both pretty damned good equestrians, you and I, and I suppose we could do a lot of things to a horse to make it run wild, make it bolt. And if we gave it certain medications, potions, we could engender excitement, agitation in it, now couldn’t we?’

  ‘This is exactly what Stephen said. Any good rider who knows horses can manipulate them, especially if the animal has been doctored with something beforehand.’

  ‘Is Vicky suggesting that Lily…was a target?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

  ‘She thinks it’s the Grant faction?’

  ‘That’s what she’s suggesting, Ned. When Stephen told me this, I asked him why she would think such a thing. He answered that Vicky hadn’t liked the look of the manon the horse. She described him as dark-haired, with dark eyes, hard, knowing eyes was the way she put it. And that he had a long scar on one cheek. She also thought he looked foreign.’

  ‘A hired hand?’

  ‘That’s the general idea…she said that the rider had looked at her for a long moment, but stared even harder at Lily. Vicky explained there was a malevolence about him that she couldn’t quite define, and that it had made her recoil.’

  A terrible coldness settled over Edward. Deep down he suddenly knew that Vicky was right. He leaned forward, pinned his eyes on Will. ‘But how would they know Lily would be driving through the park? Answer me that.’

  ‘I think it’s a relatively easy thing to figure out, Ned,’ Will answered. ‘Let’s say Lily was being followed on a permanent basis, as we know you are. When she left Belsize Park Gardens this morning she would have been spotted immediately in her landau, and tailed. She goes to Curzon Street, to Lady Fenella Fayne’s house. Vicky, who lives in Kensington, arrives in a hansom cab which is dismissed. When Lily leaves after lunch she takes Vicky in the carriage with her…a clever private investigator could have easily worked that out in advance. Earlier he would have anticipated that Lily would take Vicky home, drive with her through the park to Kensington. On the main avenue. The rider could have been stationed somewhere along the route during the ladies’ luncheon, ready to make a move against them if they suddenly appeared. If they didn’t, well, nothing lost.’