He had been happy yesterday, more relaxed, and this had pleased her. Ever since his brother George had died in Mâcon he had been given to sudden and unexpected bouts of moroseness, that was the only word she could use to describe the way he was. He was not depressed, not at all; just melancholy, and preoccupied, as if he were thinking of the past, lost in his thoughts about his brother’s rather peculiar death. Although George had died of his head wounds, which had been most severe, Ned had once muttered that George had ‘drowned in Beaujolais’. But when she had asked him what he meant he had simply shaken his head and remained silent, looking faintly puzzled.
Jane was pleased about one thing, and that was the thawing of the ice in the family. His mother had been remote and cold with Ned since George’s death, four years ago now, but lately she had been civil to her son, at least, even cordial. As for Richard, he had come around much sooner, and was certainly friendly, on good terms with his brother again. Yet he kept himself in Yorkshire, running the companies, factories and mills, as well as the coal mines in the North. Ned relied on Richard to do this, and she was thankful there was a degree of ease between them these days.
It had appalled her when his mother, Richard, and also his sister Meg in Burgundy, had taken umbrage, had blamed him. She knew full well that George had brought everything on himself … The man had tempted Providence for years, and had been a most treacherous and faithless wretch all of his life. George Deravenel had never had any time or thought for anyone else because he was too consumed with himself.
Whether or not George had been murdered was something else altogether. Nobody would ever be able to prove anything, and there was no one to pin the blame on. But certainly she had her own ideas … and those wedges that had so troubled Ned had been partially pulled out … the gendarmes from Mâcon had told Edward that. They had found loose wedges on several other pyramids of wine casks. And nobody could explain why they were loosened.
Jane realized that she was already at the Louvre, one of Paris’s gems she thought, a magnificent museum filled with some of the greatest and finest paintings in the world. She knew Grace Rose would be waiting inside and she increased her pace, hurried along the path, walking faster. She could hardly wait to see Ned’s daughter, whom she had grown to love as if she were her own child.
Grace Rose was waiting inside the museum, and she hurried forward to greet Jane when she saw her walking inside. After the two of them had embraced affectionately, Jane held the young woman way from her, staring hard. ‘Grace Rose, you look perfectly wonderful! And what an air of Gallic chic you have acquired. That’s a wonderful outfit.’
Grace Rose began to laugh, pleased by the praise for her somewhat unorthodox get-up. ‘It’s not really an outfit, Jane, just bits and pieces which I bought here and there in Paris. At odd little shops, the flea market, and several boutiques which were having summer sales. The ensemble, if I can call it that, cost me hardly anything. I had fun doing it, and it’s amusing, I think.’
Jane laughed with her, eyeing the short red silk jacket, the narrow ankle-length beige wool skirt, the huge blue rose pinned onto the jacket, the yellow beret with red and blue feathers attached, and set on one side of her auburn head in a jaunty way. She looked adorable.
Tucking her arm through Grace Rose’s, Jane said, ‘Come along, let’s go and feast our eyes. How much do you know about the Louvre?’
‘Not a lot, actually. I’ve only visited it once before and I wasn’t able to stay long. But what I saw impressed me.’
‘Let me tell you a little bit about some of the paintings: by Leonardo – the Mona Lisa, the Virgin of the Rocks – works by Raphael Titian and Veronese, as well as Goya, and one of my favourites, Delacroix.’
Jane talked about the art as the two women meandered around the Louvre gazing at these masterpieces.
‘My goodness, I’m overwhelmed.’ Grace Rose said, looking at some of the most beautiful paintings in the world. She was awed and touched by the beauty of the works, transported by them. ‘Thank you for insisting I come with you today. I’ll keep coming back as long as I’m in Paris, and whenever I return.’
‘I think you will,’ Jane agreed. ‘I know I do.’
Edward was waiting for them at Le Grand Véfour, and he stood up when the two women came into the restaurant, a warm smile lighting up his face.
Once they had greeted each other, and the women were seated, the waiter poured glasses of pink champagne.
Raising his glass, Edward said, ‘To the two of you, my beauties.’
Smiling, they did the same, clinked their glasses to his, and they both said in unison, ‘And to you.’
He looked across at them, nodded, then said, ‘Rather an interesting costume, Grace Rose, there’s no other word for it.’
Grace Rose smiled and told him how she had created it, and Jane added, ‘I think she looks très chic!’
‘Agreed.’ Glancing around the restaurant, Edward addressed Grace Rose when he explained, ‘I believe Le Grand Véfour is the most beautiful restaurant in Paris, I always enjoy coming here. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do.’
‘I know I will. It’s very old, dating back to before the French Revolution. Napoleon used to bring Josephine here, I think.’ She turned to Jane, asked, ‘I’m correct, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, they did come here, a lot of famous people did. I believe it was opened in 1784, when it was called the Café de Chartes,’ Jane answered. ‘I love the décor, especially the antique mirrors on the walls and ceiling.’
Grace Rose agreed with her, and confided, ‘I have an addiction to the Palais-Royal, enjoy walking through the arches.’
‘Lots of boutiques for you to browse in,’ Edward murmured with a wink, and then asked, ‘When do you finish at the university here?’
‘Next month, Uncle Ned, and then I shall return to London, and hopefully I’ll get a job teaching.’
‘I thought you wanted to write books,’ he remarked, sounding surprised. ‘You don’t have to worry about getting a job, you know, not if you don’t want to, Grace Rose. You perhaps ought to concentrate on a book.’
‘Oh, I do know that, about a job, I mean, and thank you again for my Trust, and everything else you’ve done for me, Uncle Ned. You know I’m very grateful.’
He merely smiled, asked Jane about their morning at the Louvre and then summoned the waiter, asked him to bring them the menus.
Once they had ordered lunch, Edward, Jane and Grace Rose talked about their plans for the next few days in Paris; it was not until after they had finished the first course that Grace Rose brought up a matter which had lately concerned her.
‘Uncle Ned,’ she began softly, and then hesitated, before finally continued, ‘I need to speak to you about Amos.’
Edward stared at her alertly, and asked, ‘What about him?’
‘I’m a little worried about him. He hasn’t seemed quite himself of late, and he seems terribly preoccupied. Haven’t you noticed it?’
Edward sat back in his chair, regarded her for a moment. Then he nodded. ‘I have, actually, and I’ve wondered myself if something was wrong. Do you think he’s ill?’
‘No, I don’t actually, because he seems so fit, extremely healthy, in fact.’
‘He’s in his sixties, but I agree with you, he’s as fit as a fiddle. And actually I’ve asked him several times if he wants to retire, but he always declines. Do you want me to talk to him again?’
Grace Rose answered quickly, ‘Yes, if you would, but I don’t want him to think you’re trying to push him out. Deravenels, and you, are his whole life, you know. I think he’d die if he had to leave you.’
‘I know that, my dear,’ Edward answered, smiling at her gently, understanding fully her deep affection for Amos. ‘Don’t you worry about it, I’ll be most careful.’
‘Thank you so much, Uncle Ned, and I know my mother will be happy I’ve talked to you about Amos. She agrees with me that he seems burdened down … by something.’
&nb
sp; Edward and Jane were staying at the Plaza Athénée Hotel on the Avenue Montaigne, and the moment they returned to their suite Edward slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie, and went to sit in a chair near the window.
Jane stared at him, frowning. ‘Are you all right, darling?’
‘Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?’
‘You seemed somewhat quiet this evening over dinner. I thought that perhaps you were worrying about Amos.’
‘No, I wasn’t. Actually I was thinking about something else entirely. As for Amos, I have a feeling I know what’s troubling him, and I’ll talk to him the moment we get back to London.’
‘So what was preoccupying you?’ she asked, seating herself opposite him.
‘I was mentally reviewing the meeting I had in the office today, that’s all.’
‘Was it a good meeting?’
‘I think it was, yes.’ He shook his head. ‘I met with … an interesting man … Henry Turner, in fact.’
Jane gaped at him. ‘The heir of Henry Grant?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why? He’s the enemy!’
‘I wouldn’t say that. In fact, he’s rather a mild-mannered young man, and actually very intelligent. Even a little serious-minded, I would go so far as to say.’
‘But why did you meet with him?’
‘He actually had written to me, and requested a meeting several weeks ago, and that was one of the reasons I wanted to come to Paris,’ Edward explained, rising, walking over to the drinks’ tray. He picked up the bottle of Napoleon brandy and poured himself a measure in a balloon, and asked, ‘Would you like some of this, Jane?’
‘No, thanks. Oh, why not … yes, I will, please,’ she said.
A moment later he strode back to the chairs, handed her the brandy balloon and sat down.
‘He wanted to meet because he wants a job. With Deravenels in Paris. He was working with Louis Charpentier, but seemingly they have had a number of quarrels and disagreements. Also, Henry feels the way I did years ago. He doesn’t want to have his bride chosen for him. And Charpentier was endeavouring to get Henry married off to his niece Louise.’
‘But you once told me Charpentier’s niece was his heir.’
‘That’s perfectly true, darling, you’re right. But Henry is not interested in marrying her, heiress or not. So he left Louis Charpentier’s employ, and decided I might take pity on him and take him in.’
‘Why do you say take pity? Doesn’t he have any money?’
‘He’s not too badly off, but he strikes me as the sort of man who wants to work, needs to work. And since he and his mother Margaret Beauchard hold a lot of Deravenel stock he decided he wanted to work for the company that he has a stake in … the family company.’
‘Is he related to you? Is he a Deravenel, Ned?’ Jane asked. ‘I thought he was from Grant’s side.’
‘That’s true, he is, but don’t forget Grant’s full name was Henry Deravenel Grant of the Lancashire Deravenel Grants, and he was descended from the original founder of the dynasty, Guy de Ravenel. As am I. He and I were cousins.’
‘So where exactly does Henry Turner fit in?’
‘Henry Turner’s father, the late Edmund Turner, was the half-brother of Henry Grant – they had the same mother, but different fathers. Edmund Turner was not a Deravenel, but Margaret Beauchard Turner, Edmund’s wife and Henry Turner’s mother, can trace her line right back to Guy de Ravenel, and that’s the other family connection. It is Grant’s shares they hold, because Henry Turner is the last heir of Grant. All the others are now dead.’
‘Have you given him a job?’ Jane asked quietly, a worried expression crossing her face.
‘I have, yes, here at the Paris office. He’s going to be doing general things at first. I haven’t placed him in a division as such.’
‘But why? Isn’t this a dangerous move?’
‘No, it isn’t, trust me, darling. Henry Turner knows there is no way he can challenge me for Deravenels. It’s mine and he knows it. He doesn’t have the experience, enough shares or clout to mount any kind of takeover ever, or coup, if you want to call it that. He just wants a job.’
‘Well, of course, you know best, Ned,’ Jane said finally. Although she meant this, trusted Ned’s business judgement and acumen, she was wary of Henry Turner and this move. And she was to remember this conversation in the not-too-distant future, and be filled with regret for not exercising more influence on Edward. And for not being more forceful with him about her concerns. But by then it was too late.
PART THREE
Bess
Loyalty Binds Me
The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed.
Charlotte Brontë
Evening Solace
I slept and dreamed that life was beauty. I woke – and found that life was duty.
Ellen Sturgis Hooper
Beauty and Duty
I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths flutter among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Emily Brontë
Wuthering Heights
FORTY
Kent
‘What’s wrong with your father, Bess?’ Will Hasling asked, after greeting her, embracing her with affection. Stepping back, Will peered into her face. It was pale and filled with worry. ‘He merely had a head cold a few days ago. What happened?’
‘His cold turned into bronchitis, as it so often does with him. I think it’s a family weakness … a weak chest, I mean. That’s why I telephoned you, Uncle Will, he seems so poorly.’
‘I’m glad you did, and I’m certainly glad I decided to come down to Kent last night.’
As they walked across the entrance foyer of Waverley Court, heading towards the staircase, Bess went on, ‘I think you know that my mother went to Rome for Easter. She took Cecily and the two boys with her. I didn’t want to go with them, and now I’m relieved I stayed here, so that I can look after my father.’
‘I’m assuming you’ve telephoned the doctor?’
‘Yes, he’ll be here very soon. Faxton and I have been treating Father the best we can. He’s been inhaling Friars’ Balsam, and taking his cough mixture. I do think that’s helped.’
As the two of them came up the last few stairs and onto the landing, they saw Faxton emerging from Edward’s bedroom.
Will asked, ‘How is Mr Deravenel, Faxton?’
‘He’s about the same, sir.’
‘As soon as the doctor arrives, please send him up.’
‘Yes, of course, Mr Hasling.’
Bess went into her father’s room first, exclaiming, ‘Papa, here is Uncle Will!’
Edward, who was propped up in bed against piles of white linen pillows, gave Will a faint smile, and half raised a hand. ‘I can’t believe this,’ he said in a low, hoarse voice. ‘I had to cancel Rome. I wasn’t well enough, and I was so looking forward to it.’
‘I know you were,’ Will replied, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed and sitting down, scrutinizing Ned intently. ‘But you’re better off here, getting yourself well, rather than traipsing around Rome. Your health is important. And by the way, who’s gone with Elizabeth and the children?’
‘Anthony took my place. He doesn’t mind travelling with his sister. And the girls’ new governess, Miss Coleman, has gone along as well as Elizabeth’s maid …’ He stopped, found a handkerchief in his pajama pocket, began to cough into it. After several minutes the hacking cough finally subsided and he leaned back, looking exhausted.
Eventually, when Ned seemed more settled, Will said, ‘Do you need a glass of water, Ned?’
‘Hot tea with lemon,’ he answered. He looked across at Bess, asked in a whisper, ‘Can you get it, darling?’
‘Of course, Father, and do you want something, Uncle Will?’
‘Yes, please, Bess, the same
. Thank you.’
She nodded, then hurried across the room.
Once they were alone, Will said, ‘You’re awfully pale, Ned. I wish there was something I could do. I feel helpless.’
‘Dr Lessing’s a good chap,’ Ned responded quietly. ‘He’ll fix me up in no time at all. But I do feel wretched. I took my boys fishing at Ravenscar last weekend, and caught a cold then. It was chilly out on the North Sea, and very windy, and it poured with rain. We got drenched. But still, they enjoyed it, so it was worth it.’ He took a deep breath, added, ‘I’ll have to get better before I can come to work, Will.’
‘Don’t worry about Deravenels, for goodness sake. It runs like clockwork, you’ve set it up that way. Everything is in good order … you have made it so streamlined and efficient, and we do have the best executives in the world.’
‘I know we do …’ Edward closed his eyes for a moment or two. He felt weary, and yet there were so many different thoughts running through his head. Urgent things to do.
Will sat perfectly still, watching him, almost guarding over him; he was extremely worried, alerted to trouble. He had never seen Edward Deravenel look as ill as this. He had told Ned his face was white, but to Will it seemed almost grey, and he was very feverish. Reaching out, Will placed his hand on Ned’s, which lay on top of the sheet.
Edward immediately opened his eyes and looked straight at Will, stared into his eyes. ‘You’ve been my dearest friend always, Will. My very best friend and ally –’ His voice petered out weakly.
Will did not like the sound of this statement; to him it smacked of a farewell, or some such thing, and he frowned. ‘I still am your dearest friend, as you are mine, and we’ll be friends for a long time.’ He suddenly pushed a grin onto his face. ‘We’re only in our forties, Ned, we’ve a good stretch ahead of us yet.’
Edward smiled at him. ‘We do, indeed, and I for one still have a lot of damage to do.’
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