My fault … If anyone’s to blame, I am. I left it too long … should have reined George in years before, held him responsible for his actions, not been so quick to forgive … not taken him back … perhaps if I’d controlled him, handled it better, he would be alive today … Mama always got to me, convinced me to be kind, begged me to help George, to let bygones be bygones. His mother had not forgiven him yet, he knew that … she thought he was a murderer, had said that to him one day … ‘you killed my son’ … she had thrown those words at him … at the time he had thought, ‘But I’m your son also’. He had not said this to her … sometimes, like now … he wished that he had …
Downstairs in the library, Bess was seated at her father’s desk, speaking on the telephone to Will Hasling. ‘Father is better, honestly, Uncle Will, please do believe me. I’m telling you the truth.’
Listening carefully, paying attention to every word, Will now said, ‘I’m just checking to be sure that all is well, and I also wanted you to know that we are coming back up to town tonight. So if you do need to get in touch with me, you’ll find me at the house in London.’
‘Thanks for letting me know, Uncle Will.’
‘Oh, and Bess, there is one other thing … have you told your mother that your father is ill, that he has bronchitis again?’
Bess gripped the phone a little harder, frowning to herself. ‘No, I haven’t. Father didn’t ask me to telephone her. Do you think I should have?’
‘No, no, I’m sure it’s not necessary,’ Will said swiftly. ‘If you say your father is a little better tonight, perhaps there’s no point.’ As he said these words, Will experienced that odd feeling once again; he had that peculiar flash of foreboding he’d had on Friday, and he made up his mind to get in touch with Anthony Wyland, who was in Rome with his sister Elizabeth. In his bones he knew they should be told.
‘Uncle Will, are you there?’ Bess was saying.
‘Yes, yes, I am, Bess. Give your father my best love, and tell him I’ll come and see him tomorrow.’
Bess hung up the telephone and sat staring at it for the longest moment, still frowning. Was her father not as well as he seemed? She couldn’t help wondering that … because why had Will Hasling asked her if she had talked to her mother in Rome? Did Will know more than she did? Was there something really wrong with her father? If not, why his concern? Well, he was her father’s best friend, his colleague in business.
Bess went out of the library and ran upstairs; she flew down the corridor to her father’s bedroom, tapped on the door and hurried in. To her surprise, he was sitting up in bed.
‘I came to wake you up, Father,’ she said, suddenly filled with relief, ‘and here you are, already awake.’
A smile flickered. ‘What has Cook got in store for me tonight?’
‘Hot chicken broth with noodles, grilled sole with parsley sauce and mashed potatoes. It sounds delicious.’
‘Hardly. More like a menu for a sick man.’
‘I shall have supper with you, Papa, up here on a tray. Is that all right?’
‘Perfect.’
Edward awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. He felt as if he had steel bands fastened around his chest. The pain was excruciating. He tried to move, to sit up, and found he could not. Rolling, he managed to turn himself on his side, and that felt a bit better. He realized then that his right side was hurting him. And then there it was again, that terrible searing pain across his chest. Congested, he thought, I’m congested, it’s the bronchitis.
A small voice in his head told him it wasn’t the bronchitis, that it was something else, something worse. He wondered if he was having a heart attack; he couldn’t be sure.
Edward lay very still, trying to breathe evenly, and eventually the chest pains abated, and finally they ceased altogether. His right side still hurt him, but as he remained in one position in the bed this, too, began to lessen. When he felt more comfortable at last he dozed, drifted off, soon fell fast asleep.
In his dreams he was with Lily Overton, his darling Lily, the woman he had loved so much when he was a very young man …
FORTY-TWO
Bess sat waiting in the library for her father’s London physician, Dr Avery Ince. He was upstairs with her father, and had been there for quite a while, and now she was beginning to worry more than usual. Why was the visit lasting so long?
A moment or two later she heard his footsteps crossing the marble hall and hurried out of the library. ‘What do you think, Dr Ince?’ she asked, her concern reflected in her dour expression.
‘Let’s go into the library for a moment, Bess,’ he said, guiding her into the room. He had known her since she was a child, and in the last two or three years had come to admire her; she did her father proud.
‘Is Papa any better?’ Bess asked as she seated herself on the edge of a chair.
‘No, about the same,’ the doctor answered, also sitting down. ‘But he seems rather tired this morning.’
‘Father wanted to see some of his friends yesterday afternoon, and they came over for tea,’ Bess explained. ‘Perhaps it was a bit exhausting for him.’ She sat back in the chair, not daring to tell the doctor about the evening. Her father had invited Alfredo Oliveri and Amos Finnister to come over last night with Uncle Will, and they had stayed a long time.
‘From now on no more visitors, Bess,’ the doctor admonished. ‘I want your father to have complete and total rest. And please make sure he takes the expectorant I brought with me today. He has a lot of mucus in his chest, and I want to clear that up as fast as I can.’ The doctor rose, picked up his bag and went towards the door.
Bess followed him, asking, ‘Are you going to come and see Father tomorrow, Dr Ince?’
‘I shall stop by in the late morning. Oh, and by the way, when is your mother returning from Rome?’
‘Tomorrow. Uncle Will telephoned Uncle Anthony who is with her, and he’s made all the travel arrangements.’
‘Excellent.’ He smiled at her warmly, and added in a reassuring way, ‘Don’t look so worried, Bess, we’ll soon have your father up and about. He’ll be his old self in a few days. Make sure he drinks plenty of liquids, won’t you?’
‘Yes, Dr Ince,’ she said, seeing him out. Locking the front door, she raced across the large entrance hall and went into the morning room. Will was sitting there with Grace Rose and Jane Shaw. Jane’s presence in the house had been made possible by the absence of Mallet. Today was Wednesday, the butler’s day off.
‘What did Dr Ince say?’ Jane asked anxiously as Bess came in. She looked weary, and was obviously worried.
‘That father’s about the same, but very tired.’ Bess shook her head. ‘That’s no doubt because he had visitors yesterday, but Vicky and Fenella did cheer him up.’
Will said, ‘This is the worst I’ve seen your father, Bess. He’s never been quite this sick with bronchitis. He has to rest, and you must keep him in bed. He was talking to me about coming back to the office next week. However, I don’t think that’s wise.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jane said, and stood up, looking even more anxious. ‘May I go and see him now?’ She gave Bess a smile, and added, ‘I’m sure you realize that I feel a trifle … awkward … being here in this house.’
‘I understand. And of course you can see him. Come on!’ Bess led the way upstairs.
Within minutes she returned to the library and sat down next to her half sister. ‘Father says he’d like you to go up in fifteen minutes, Grace Rose. He’s looking forward to a visit from you.’
‘And I can’t wait to see him.’ Clearing her throat, Grace Rose now ventured, ‘Shouldn’t Uncle Ned be in a hospital?’ She looked from Will to Bess, her eyes full of questions.
‘We’ve both suggested it, and discussed it with Dr Ince,’ Will answered. ‘Ned won’t hear of it, won’t budge from this house, and the doctor seems to think it’s better to cater to him rather than put him in a private clinic, which I suggested.’
‘I u
nderstand.’ Grace Rose sighed. ‘Dr Ince is very good; he’s our doctor, too. I suppose he does know best.’ Nonetheless she still believed her natural father should be in a hospital, no matter what Edward himself wanted. He was stubborn, and used to getting his own way; his condition troubled her.
‘The doctor asked me when Mother is coming home, and I told him tomorrow. That’s correct, isn’t it, Uncle Will?’
‘According to your uncle, Bess, they’ll arrive Thursday afternoon.’
Bess gave Will a pointed look and said in a low voice, ‘I hope she’s not going to upset him, make him feel worse. She always brushes Papa up the wrong way.’
Will was silent, knowing that Ned’s daughter spoke the truth.
Grace Rose did not say a word either, having witnessed at first hand Elizabeth’s remarkably bad temper being directed at Uncle Ned. She simply stood, said softly, ‘I’ll go up and see him now.’
Finally the house was quiet. Silent. All was peaceful again.
Bess’s mother had arrived home this afternoon, a day earlier than expected, and for a short while chaos had reigned. She had stepped into the house haughtily, looking coolly beautiful and controlled, the Ice Queen, followed by Cecily, Young Edward, Little Ritchie, Miss Coleman, the new governess, and her maid, Elsie. In the rear guard, managing the luggage, were Uncle Anthony, Flon, the bootboy, and three of the household maids, as well as the new under-butler, Jackson.
Without so much as a word of greeting, her mother had swept passed her, gone up the stairs and into her father’s room, closing the door behind her very firmly.
Bess was annoyed that her mother had not even acknowledged her. She had been left to organize the other children, and give Uncle Anthony all of the details of her father’s illness, plus a report of his progress so far.
As she had poured her uncle a cup of tea, and made sure her two brothers and sister had glasses of milk and arrowroot biscuits, she had silently thanked God they had not arrived two hours earlier.
If that had happened they would have all been caught red-handed – she and her father, Uncle Will and Grace Rose – entertaining Jane Shaw, her father’s mistress, to a lunch of smoked salmon sandwiches and white wine. That would have caused a genuine full-blown war … the war to end all wars and their marriage. But Jane, always so proper, so careful and extremely well-mannered, had been somewhat nervous and ill at ease about being in the Berkeley Square house, and had made it a short lunch. How lucky that had been.
After half an hour her mother had come downstairs to the drawing room looking extremely put out, but she had finally greeted her, and kissed her on the cheek. What had seemed strange to Bess was that she had made no reference to her sick husband on the floor above. It was only when her brother Anthony had begun to question her that Elizabeth had thrown him an angry look and muttered, ‘We’ll talk shortly, but not now.’
Fourteen-year-old Cecily had spoken out then, had insisted on going up to their father, and Young Edward and Little Ritchie had exclaimed that they, too, wished to see their father as well. And she had been told to take them to their father’s bedroom at once.
Now, as she thought back to the afternoon, Bess realized what a supreme effort it had been for Papa to appear cheerful for his two sons, his male heirs, and for her and Cecily, also.
Usually the boys were rambunctious, liked to jump all over him and hug him, but this afternoon they had been suitably well behaved, and chastened, perhaps a little frightened even to see their father prone in bed and not looking all that robust either.
Both boys had been sweet and loving as had Cecily, and when her father had asked where the other girls were, she had thought that perhaps they should be here with the family, now that their mother had come home.
‘They’re down in Kent with Nanny,’ she had reminded him, and he had nodded, told her to have them brought up to London the next morning. And then he had smiled that irresistible smile of his – a smile like no other smile in the whole world.
Bess suddenly awakened with a start.
She sat up, looking around, and realized that she had fallen asleep in her father’s chair behind the desk in the library. She glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it was already ten. Unexpectedly, she felt a rush of sudden fear, a strange uneasiness, and she left the library, flew upstairs and stood outside her father’s bedroom door. All was quiet. After a moment, she opened it, and went in, crossed the floor. The bedside light was on, and he turned his head, becoming aware of her, looked directly at her. And she couldn’t help thinking how very blue his eyes were tonight, bluer than she had ever seen them.
‘Hello, sweetheart.’
‘Papa, do you need anything?’
‘Will … get Will.’
‘Now, Papa?’
‘Yes.’
Bess went to the telephone in her father’s dressing room, dialled the number of Will Hasling. When he himself answered, she said in a low voice, ‘Uncle Will, it’s Bess. My father wants you to come. Now. Can you?’
‘I’ll be there as fast as I can. Is something wrong?’
‘I – I don’t know. I’ll go downstairs and wait at the front door, so we don’t … wake anybody up.’
‘I understand.
After she had replaced the receiver, she went back to her father’s bed. ‘He’s coming, Papa.’
Edward nodded his head, and then said, ‘Lock the door.’ As he spoke he pointed to the dressing room.
‘To the adjoining bedroom?’
‘Yes.’
Bess ran into the dressing room and very quietly turned the key in the door which opened onto her mother’s bedroom.
‘It’s locked. I’m going downstairs, Father,’ she said as she returned to his bedside. ‘To wait for Uncle Will at the front door. I don’t want him to ring the doorbell, disturb the house.’
‘Good.’
FORTY-THREE
Jackson, the under-butler, had already locked up for the night, and Bess immediately set to work pulling back the bolts and unlocking the door. She then stood waiting, listening for the sound of Will Hasling.
She did not have to wait long.
Within fifteen minutes she heard a car drawing up, the sound of one of its doors closing, and muted voices, followed by footsteps.
Opening the door a crack, she came face to face with Will. He slipped inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.
‘The whole house is fast asleep. Father didn’t want anyone to be disturbed. The boys and Cecily were especially tired after travelling so long,’ Bess explained.
Will nodded. ‘Is he all right?’
‘He seems about the same, but very quiet. Mother and I sat with him for a short while after supper, and he was … withdrawn. I think he is worn out. At least then he was. When I looked in on him a short while ago he was more like himself, and he asked me to telephone you to come over.’
‘I’m assuming that everything is all right between your parents? Nothing untoward happened when your mother got back, did it?’
‘Not that I know of, Uncle Will. Mother went to see father immediately she arrived. She didn’t say anything to me when she came down for tea, but we did eventually talk later. She asked me a lot of questions and wanted to know everything. She was very upset about Father, and she was weeping. I made her go and take a rest before dinner, and she seemed a bit better when she joined us at seven.’
Will said nothing; he took hold of Bess’s arm and the two of them crossed the hall, hurried up the grand staircase, and went into Edward’s bedroom.
‘Here I am, Ned!’ Will went over to the bed, looking for tell-tale evidence of a worsening condition, or signs of emotional upset. But there was nothing visible, nothing unusual about Ned’s appearance tonight, much to Will’s profound relief. Elizabeth could easily have upset Edward when she had arrived from Rome today.
‘Thanks for coming, Will,’ Ned said. ‘Can you help me to sit up, do you think?’
Will did as he asked,
propped him against the pillows, and then sat down in one of the chairs near the bed.
Bess, hovering near the doorway, cleared her throat. ‘I’ll leave you to yourselves, Papa, and –’
‘No, no, you don’t have to go, Bess.’ Ned gestured to the seating area at the other side of the bedroom. ‘You can sit there if you wish, whilst I talk to Will.’
Bess did as her father suggested.
The room was quiet for several minutes, until Will broke the silence, saying, ‘Anthony let me know everyone was back safely from Rome, a day early.’
A faint smile touched Edward’s mouth but only fleetingly. ‘Yes, and we almost got caught red-handed, didn’t we? At least that was the way my Bess put it.’
Will laughed. ‘Only too true.’
‘Elizabeth has been very upset since she got back,’ Edward confided. ‘And she has made a suggestion to me, which I would like to pass by you. She wants me to take three months off from Deravenels and go on one of the big ships to New York. She believes the trip will do me an enormous amount of good – sea air and all that. And to make the idea more palatable and appealing to me, she pointed out that we have offices in New York and the oil fields in Louisiana. What do you think?’
‘She’s right for once, Ned. It’s a splendid idea. You should do it.’
‘Will you run Deravenels for me whilst I’m away?’
‘Of course I will, you surely know that.’
‘When is Richard returning from Persia?’
‘Not until next week. Before he left he told me he was taking your advice and going on to Constantinople, after visiting the oil fields. As you know, he took Anne with him. He wanted her to have a holiday. She’s not been at all well.’
Edward sighed. ‘She’s never been a strong person. Like her late sister Isabel, Anne has a poor constitution. Strange, isn’t it, that Neville’s daughters would be such delicate little creatures, when their father was so robust and strong.’
The Heir Page 34
