Heirs of Ravenscar (13 page)

All of Ned's close friends were gentlemen, just as he was. They spoke the same language, led similar lives, had the same standards and beliefs, and would become the Establishment one day, the ruling class, as their fathers had before them. He missed them all tonight, felt lost without them. He could hardly wait to return to London, to be with them. Rising, he went and turned off the various lamps, returned to the chair, sat sipping the brandy, drifting with his thoughts, half asleep, half awake, lost in a world of his own.

T
here was the slightest of sounds, like a long, drawn-out sigh, and he heard it vaguely, half dozing, sprawled in the chair in front of the fire. He was relaxed, feeling at ease and comfortable in his shirt, his jacket and tie discarded over an hour ago.

There it was again … the long sigh, this time followed by another curious whispery sound. To him it seemed like the swish of silk, faint yet intriguing.

Unexpectedly, the scent of gardenias floated across to him on the warm air, and he struggled to sit up in the armchair, rousing himself.

The library was awash with moonlight, and as he blinked and adjusted his eyes, he saw her standing in the doorway.
Elizabeth
. Lamplight from the Long Hall was shining behind her and her curvaceous figure was a tantalizing silhouette quite visible through the smokey-grey chiffon peignoir she was wearing. Her waist-length silver-gilt hair was loose, flowing around her face.

To him it was still the most beautiful face he had ever seen, absolute perfection, as if sculpted by a great artist from flawless marble. She was pale as a ghost tonight, and seemed to float before him like a spectre. Suddenly, she turned, locked the library door, then took a step forward, simply stood there, her arms at her sides, staring at him intently, not saying a word.

She had come to seduce him, he knew that at once.

Edward immediately felt the heat flooding through him; even his face was suddenly hot. He could not take his eyes off her, he was mesmerized.

Finally, he rose, went to meet her in the middle of the floor. She stared up at him, he looked down at her, their blue eyes met.

‘What are you doing here?' he asked, and was surprised how hoarse his voice sounded, hoarse with desire.

‘I'm seeking my husband.'

‘He is here.'

‘Is he waiting for his wife?'

‘He is.'

‘Does he desire her?'

‘He does.'

‘She is yours. Only yours.'

Edward reached out his hand, enclosing her long, slender fingers in his, drawing her closer. Putting his arms around her, he lowered his mouth to hers, savoured her, breathing in the perfume of her.

Elizabeth clung to him, her dearest husband. The man she loved, the only man for her. She ran her hands into his thick red-gold hair, pressed her body to his, let her tongue slide into his mouth sensuously, the way he liked. Instantly, he was aroused. She felt his erection against her body and her heart lifted. This was the right way, as her mother was forever telling her. This was the true way to win him back, to make him wholly hers again.

‘Enslave him,' her mother had recently told her. ‘He's a sensual man, sexually driven, very potent. Give him everything he wants from you. You are his wife, the mother of his children, so be his lover as well.'

Elizabeth remembered her words now. She slid her hands down onto his shoulders, his back, and finally they came to rest on his buttocks; she pressed him into her.

He was excited, and he muttered against the long silky hair, ‘Let's go upstairs.'

‘No, no, let's stay here.'

He released her without a word, took off his shirt and other clothes; she came to him, slid her peignoir over her shoulders, let it drop to the floor. And still they just stood there staring, their eyes locked, as if they had never seen each other before.

He was amazed by her tonight. How unusually beautiful she was, and she seemed very young, like a young girl, untouched, innocent even. She was five years older than him, yet she was like a girl tonight.

Watching Ned, aware of his eyes roaming over her, Elizabeth could hardly contain herself. He was so masculine, so tall and broad chested, with long legs. She had once told him he was an Adonis, and he had laughed, but it was true.

He took hold of her hand, led her closer to the fire, and they lay down together on the thick rug. Taking a handful of her silky blonde hair, he kissed it tenderly, leaned over her, kissed her throat, her eyes and finally her mouth. His kisses were gentle at first, but as he realized her excitement was growing, felt the heat of her, he grew greedier and more passionate.

She was trembling in his arms, and whispered his name against his ear. ‘Oh Ned, oh Ned, I want you …' He lifted himself onto her so that he could look down into her eyes.
And he said in a low, almost inaudible tone, ‘I do love you, you know …'

‘Prove it, Ned, prove it.'

He did so, taking her to him in a way he had not done for the longest time. And Elizabeth gave herself up to him entirely, recognizing that he was different tonight. Tender and loving, yet bursting with a raging desire that verged on wildness. She abandoned herself to him, as he was doing with her, and she knew she had won him back. With great skill and expertise, much of it learned from him, she held him in her thrall, fed his desire for her all night. Elizabeth so inflamed him they reached heights they had not reached for years. Their quarrels and differences forgotten, at least for this night, they were man and wife again, loving each other without restraint.

Edward felt a sudden cold wind blowing across his body, and he sat up in bed with a start. He saw immediately that he was in his own bedroom; the window had slipped the latch and banged back and forth against the wall. Icy cold North Sea air filled the room.

Jumping out of bed, he closed the window, and glanced around. Moving across the floor, he peered into Elizabeth's bedroom; it was in total darkness, the way she preferred, and he could see she was fast asleep. Closing the door quietly, he went back and sat down on his bed. He had a raging headache and his mouth felt dry. It was a hangover … he had a hangover from the large quantity of cognac he had drunk last night, just before she had come downstairs, and seduced him on the floor of the library. Thank God she had had the sense to lock the door, because he hadn't even thought of it.

Laughing, shaking his head, Edward stood up, went through into the adjoining bathroom. Running the tap, he filled a glass with icy water and drank it down, and then reached for the shaving soap and his razor.

Elizabeth had set out to seduce him last night, very purposefully, and she had of course succeeded. Not that she had had to try very hard. He had found her most alluring, and had been an extremely willing and enthusiastic partner. And because for once she had not said the wrong thing and annoyed him, they had enjoyed a night of flawless lovemaking.

If only she kept her mouth shut more often, things in general would be so much better between them. As it was, she forever made rather mean statements which, very simply, always got his goat.

Edward stopped shaving for a moment, the razor hovering in mid air, as a sudden truth rushed at him. Elizabeth, intelligent and also clever in so many different ways, was actually
dense
. That's it, he muttered under his breath, unexpectedly seeing his wife objectively, with great clarity. Certain things just didn't penetrate her brain; she was insensitive to other people's feelings, he realized.

Sighing, he continued to shave, pondering Elizabeth. She was one of the most aggravating people he knew, and she was so inflammatory at times he became infuriated with her. But he would never leave her because he wanted a normal family life, and also there were the children. They had six now, and he loved them dearly and they needed him, needed both their parents, in fact.

Also, to be scrupulously fair, his wife did have certain qualities and assets which were important to him. She was still sexually exciting to him even after eleven years of marriage; he was always drawn to her in the most sensual way. There was another thing – she didn't mind having
babies, even if she didn't pay too much attention to them after they arrived.

He paused again, staring at himself in the mirror, wondering if they had just made another baby last night. It wouldn't upset her, and it certainly didn't bother him, not in any way. Large families had been popular in the Victorian and Edwardian periods. And big families were still looked upon with great pleasure and pride.

This aside, his wife was considered to be a world-class beauty, and indeed she was. She had enormous style in dressing, was chic, wore clothes well, carried herself with confidence and panache; he loved having her on his arm. She had also learned, much to her credit, how to run the Berkeley Square house. He did not worry about his house by the sea in Kent because Mrs Nettleton, the housekeeper, took care of it with efficiency, whilst his mother handled the running of Ravenscar with her usual skill, and enjoyed doing so. The estate itself now actually made money; she held the reins firmly, made sure that Alan Pettigrew, the steward, carried out all of her instructions exactly.

Elizabeth, under his tutelage, was now a polished and charming hostess, but there
was
a downside. He now decided he must try to turn a blind eye to this if he could. She was argumentative, and managed to ruffle feathers very often; she said the wrong things to people who frequently took offence. He
had
tried to break her of this irritating habit without much success. ‘Her mouth's always open and her foot's always in it,' Will was forever telling him, and this was the truth.

Exciting though she was in bed, Elizabeth was, unfortunately, deadly dull out of it. Nor was she at all interested in any of the things which claimed his attention and were relaxing to him.

Well, of course, he had Jane Shaw for companionship,
enjoyed their shared interest in art, music and books. He focused on Jane for a moment; she was such a good person, and she was entirely happy with their relationship exactly the way it was. Marriage did not interest her. Not marriage to him or any other man. She had been married once, and that seemingly was enough for her. Certainly she had told him this many times.

Will, his best friend and greatest confidante, constantly told him to accept his life as it was, had said only the other day, ‘Stop worrying so much about both women. You treat them extremely well, the same way you treat everyone in your family and your life well. You've nothing to chastise yourself about.'

He hoped that was true.

‘A
h, there you are Ned, darling,' Cecily Deravenel said, putting her cup down on the saucer. ‘Good morning.'

‘Morning, Mama,' he answered and smiled at her as he walked across the breakfast room. He stopped at her chair, kissed her cheek, and went on towards the sideboard.

An array of silver tureens were lined up on hot plates, and he lifted the lids, saw a selection of mouth-watering food: grilled sausages, kidneys, bacon, mushrooms, and tomatoes, as well as scrambled eggs, and kippers. ‘Good Lord, Cook
has
done us proud!' he exclaimed, and taking a plate he selected grilled tomatoes and sausage and came back to the table.

Just as he was sitting down next to his mother, Jessup came hurrying in, bringing hot toast and a fresh pot of tea on a silver tray. ‘Good morning, sir,' Jessup said, and brought the small tray to the table, placed both next to Edward.

‘Good morning, Jessup,' Edward murmured. ‘Splendid day, isn't it?'

‘Yes, sir, it is. Very sunny and clear, no sea fret this morning. But it's chilly, Mr Deravenel, as usual.' The butler now brought glass dishes of butter and strawberry jam and set them next to the toast rack.

Edward nodded, took a piece of hot toast, spread butter on it, saying as he did, ‘Are we ready for Boxing Day, Jessup? Is everything in place?'

‘Oh yes indeed, sir. Cook's done up some lovely boxes of tasty food for the estate staff – turkey, ham and beef, pork pies and Christmas cakes; and Mr Pettigrew has filled the money boxes with sovereigns.'

Edward nodded. ‘Excellent. I don't like to neglect the estate workers, they deserve to be well taken care of, Jessup. And look here, you might want to add a bottle of wine to each of the boxes prepared for the tenant farmers. They're a good lot.'

‘I will, sir.' Jessup looked at Edward's mother and asked, ‘Do you need anything else, Mrs Deravenel? Can I get you something more?'

‘No thank you, Jessup.' She took a small card from her jacket pocket, and handed it to him. ‘Here are the menus for Cook for lunch and dinner today. Oh, and please tell her that Lady Fenella is coming for tea this afternoon. The usual afternoon tea will be fine, Jessup, and please remind Cook that Lady Fenella has always loved her mince pies.'

‘Yes, Madam.' Jessup hurried out.

‘I'd forgotten about Fenella,' Edward said, turning to his mother. ‘She's coming with Mark Ledbetter, isn't she?'

‘Yes. I know you cancelled all the festivities, Ned, but she did so want to come over this afternoon, I didn't have the heart to say no.'

‘It's not a problem for me, Mother, really not. And I cancelled the houseguests because Young Edward was ill. Anyway, I'm thrilled with his progress, he's so much better. And Fenella's presence isn't going to affect him.'

He sipped his tea, then continued, ‘I need to go over something with you, but we can do it later.'

Cecily groaned. ‘You always do that, you know, say you want to discuss something, and then immediately put it off, until later you say. Just as your father did. Tell me
now
, Ned, please don't procrastinate.'

‘I want you to take the company papers out of your vault at Charles Street. I need to look them over.'

Cecily sat up straighter on the chair, staring at him, her brows drawing together in a frown. ‘Is there something wrong? Is there a problem, Ned?'

He shook his head. ‘No, not at all, Mother. I just need to look at the company rules.'

‘I see.' She opened her mouth, shut it, and pondered for a moment before saying to him slowly. ‘Is there a problem with that relative of Henry Grant's – Henry Turner, the fellow who lives in France? The Grants are not breathing down our necks again, are they?'

‘No, no, of course not! And as for Henry Turner, he's a youngish chap, about seventeen or eighteen. No trouble for us. He's been living in France for years, not sure what he does. But he has no claim on Deravenels, if that is what you're intimating, Mama.'

‘I'm not intimating anything, actually, but I do know that some years ago he was heard to say he was Henry Grant's true heir.'

Amused, Ned laughed, then cut into one of the sausages. ‘Heir to what, though? As I just said, he has no claim to Deravenels. Besides, he's a rather
dubious
heir, if you ask me. His father was Henry Grant's half brother, so Henry Grant was his half uncle, I believe.' Edward started to laugh again.

Cecily shook her head. ‘Yes, you are right in everything you say, darling, but as you are well aware, he who laughs
last laughs the longest. You are sure this fellow Turner doesn't have any plots up his sleeve?'

‘Don't be silly, Mother. Now, allow me to explain something. I want to look at the company rules for a very specific reason. I want to know whether I can change one of the rules.'

‘I doubt that you can!' she exclaimed, leaning closer to him, searching his face. ‘And what rule do you want to change, anyway?'

‘The rule pertaining to who is eligible to inherit Deravenels.'

‘What do you mean? It's the first born of the current chairman! Or, as in your case, managing director. Young Edward is your heir, and then Ritchie, if Young Edward has predeceased him.'

‘I understand that – just as I was my father's heir. But things
can
happen, life is unpredictable, and I want to be sure that if there is no
male
Deravenel to inherit after me, that a
female
can inherit.'

‘A woman run Deravenels! My God, Edward, what are you thinking of! I can't imagine the Deravenels board sanctioning that! Good heavens, no! And don't forget there is a board of directors, you are a little bit hampered, you know.'

‘I do know. But times are changing. And also life is truly unpredictable, as I just said. So I would like to know that Bess
can
inherit, if she is the only Deravenel old enough to step into my shoes, if there is no male heir.'

‘Why wouldn't there be a male heir?' Cecily suddenly looked nervous, her face taut.

‘I'm quite certain there will be, but what if something terrible should happen to the boys?' Edward shook his head, gave her a long look. ‘I remember very well what you said to me one day, here at Ravenscar. “Has nobody ever told you that life is catastrophic, Edward?” Those are the exact
words you uttered that day, fourteen years ago, when you told me my father and brother, my uncle and my cousin had all been killed in Italy.'

Cecily was silent, and then she slowly nodded. ‘Yes, it's true. I did say that.' She sat back in her chair. ‘Perhaps there
is
some way to change the rule about women. It's very old, of course, but there are some people who would say that it is now antiquated, truly out of date.' Cecily closed her eyes for a moment, thinking; when she opened them she smiled at her eldest son. ‘I have a feeling that
you
could actually do it, pull it off, providing the board went along with you.'

A sense of relief surged through him, and he said softly, ‘I can be very persuasive, Mother, very persuasive indeed.'

‘Oh, I know that only too well, you don't have to tell me,' she replied, and gave him a sharp look.

There was a sudden racket outside; a dog was barking, a child was crying, and someone was shouting. He thought it might be Bess. Then he heard Mary screaming, ‘No! No! Stop it!'

Edward jumped up, exclaiming, ‘What in God's name is going on out there?' He opened the French doors of the breakfast room, stepped out on the terrace, and ran down the steps leading through the tiered garden. In his anxiousness for his children, his haste to get to them, Edward did not notice the steps were covered in ice, and he slipped, falling hard, rolled down the flagged steps, unable to stop himself. When he reached the bottom, near the patch of lawn at the edge of the cliffs, he did not move, lay perfectly still.

‘Father! Father!' Bess shouted, and ran towards him, at the same time calling out, ‘Mary! Mary! Fetch Jessup. Find Nanny. Go on, go! Do as I say.'

‘What about the dog?' Mary cried tearfully.

‘Give the leash to Cecily. Just go!'

Now reaching Edward, the nine-year-old girl knelt down
on the ground next to him, touching his face. ‘Father, Father. Open your eyes.' Edward groaned, but no words left his mouth.

‘Father, Father,' Bess said again, panic rising in her. ‘Please speak to me.'

Still he did not answer her. She took hold of his hand, waiting for Jessup, and praying her father was not dead.