‘Thank you, Mrs Collet, you are very kind.’ Shifting on the stool, he now asked, ‘Could you please tell me that story again? About your brave husband, Private First Class Percy Collet of the Seaforth Highlanders, how he prevented himself and the other soldiers from sinking into the mud in the trenches, when he fought in the Battle of the Somme.’
Cook’s face lit up. She loved this boy, who was so beautiful and polite; he was a little darling, that he was. ‘It was like this … the Fray Bentos tins of corned beef were his remarkable solution. My Percy, well, he started ter line the bottom of his trench with ’em, and –’
The door opened and Bess walked in. ‘I have good news! Uncle Will is going to talk to Uncle Richard, and I know Will can make everything all right!’
Edward took the cheesecloth bag out of his mouth, and shook his head. ‘I don’t think he will, Bess. No, I have a dreadful feeling Little Ritchie and I will be at Ravenscar next week at this time.’
He made a face, and his voice was grave as he continued, ‘We’ll just have to be brave about it, but I’ll miss you, Bess. And Cecily and Anne and the Little Dumplings. Katherine and Bridget are very precious to me.’
Bess went and put her arms around him, held him close. She loved him so much, she couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from him. Neither could their mother. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, begging God to let her younger brothers stay with them in Kent.
FORTY-SEVEN
London
Amos Finnister tapped on Alfredo Oliveri’s office door and then walked into his office without waiting for a response.
Oliveri, who had been expecting him, looked up and said, ‘Sit down, Amos. Please tell me everything you know.’
It was Tuesday the eighth of June. The day before, the rumours had been rampant throughout the company. The gossip was that more of the top executives were going to be axed on the explicit orders of Richard Deravenel. But nobody knew who would be sacked, so most people were alarmed, extremely worried about losing their jobs. An atmosphere of fear reigned for the first time in over thirty years, and there was a sense of gloom on every floor of the building.
Amos had all the information, as he had just told Oliveri on the phone, a short while before; now he leaned closer and confided, ‘I understand Frank Lane was given his walking orders late on Friday afternoon. And this week we’ll see the departure of John Lawrence and Peter Stokes, two good men also.’
‘My God, Frank Lane! This is terrible news, Amos, he’s been with the company for donkeys’ years. About as long as I have. He was one of Mr Edward’s big supporters when he was trying to get the company back from the Grants. Frank stood by our lot, he was a real trooper.’ Oliveri was truly shocked and it showed. He felt a sudden rush of sadness. The company had changed the moment Richard Deravenel had taken control, and it genuinely concerned him.
‘I know how much Frank was respected. Mr Edward used to call him True Blue,’ Amos said. ‘He took it on the chin apparently, simply cleaned out his desk on Saturday morning and left. We won’t ever see him again. More’s the pity, he was a nice chap.’
‘There’s something radically wrong here, Amos. What’s going on? Do you know?’
‘I can only agree with what you said the other day at White’s Club. Our new boss is making way for his own men … those childhood friends mean a lot to him. I think we’ll be seeing Francis Lowell around here anytime soon, and also Robert Clayton and Robin Sterling. They’re as thick as thieves and have been for ever. It has to be that. You know what I mean … birds of a feather …’
‘How do you know the names? Who told you?’ Oliveri threw him a quizzical look.
Amos held up a warning finger. ‘Don’t ask any questions, my friend. That way you’ll remain as clean as a whistle. The less you know the better off you are. Let me just say this … I have my ways of finding things out.’
Alfredo merely nodded, knowing Finnister’s reputation for breaking and entering. Edward Deravenel had often boasted about it.
‘Can I come in?’ Will Hasling asked as he opened the door and walked inside. ‘I hear Frank Lane was pushed out on Friday. I wasn’t here, I’d gone to Kent. What do we know?’ Will came and sat down next to Amos, and looked at him intently and then turned to face Oliveri.
Alfredo said swiftly, ‘Amos will fill you in, and, by the way, the new boss was looking for you a short while ago.’
‘Was he now? I also need to see him. Now, Amos, give me the bad news quickly.’
Amos repeated the things he had just told Oliveri, and Will listened, his face grave, then he said succinctly, ‘He’s on the bloody rampage.’
After discussing the terminations with Amos and Alfredo for a few minutes, Will Hasling returned to his own office, and buzzed his secretary. When she came in he gave her a pile of letters to file and then stood up. Striding across the room, he paused at the door which Edward had put in all those years go. It had been usual for the two of them to move in and out of each other’s offices in the most casual way, but Will had quickly come to understand that Richard would not tolerate this kind of intimacy. And so the door had remained closed since Ned’s death.
Lifting his hand, he knocked and waited.
After a moment he heard, ‘Come in.’
Smiling broadly, Will said, ‘Good morning, Richard. Did you have a good weekend?’
‘Yes, I did. I was actually looking for you on Monday. But you weren’t here yesterday afternoon.’ Richard gave him a cold look.
Why the animosity? Will asked himself, but said in an amiable tone, ‘That’s right, I left before lunch. I had a meeting in the afternoon with Rice and Hepple, regarding the Montecristo vineyards in Italy. It dragged on, so I didn’t come back. It was too late in the afternoon.’
‘Ah, yes, you’re dealing with them. How did it go?’
‘Matters are moving along quite well. I’ll let you know what happens. In the meantime, you said you were looking for me yesterday. Did you need something?’
‘I wanted to let you know that Francis Lowell will be coming to work alongside me here. Either next week or the week after.’
Although Will already knew this from Finnister, he feigned surprise ‘That’s good to know! He’s done a wonderful job at the factories in Yorkshire, and I look forward to meeting him again, getting to know him better.’
‘He’s invaluable,’ Richard murmured, and dropped his eyes to the papers on his desk, shuffled them, then glanced up when Will remained standing there. ‘That’s all I had to say, Will.’
‘I realize that. However, I wish to ask you something, Richard.’ Stepping closer to the desk, Will went on, ‘Bess is upset that you plan to move her brothers to Yorkshire this summer. I can’t help wondering why you’re interfering with Ned’s children.’
‘That’s none of your bloody business,’ Richard snapped, glaring at him.
‘It is my business when Bess comes to me, asks me to speak to you about it. When she’s almost in tears.’
‘Why did she come to you and not me? I’m her uncle, am I not?’
‘It was, in a sense, quite by accident,’ Will said carefully, wary now, and cautious. ‘She was at Stonehurst last Saturday, visiting Grace Rose, and I had gone over to see Vicky about some family matters. Bess just happened to mention it in passing.’
‘What a bloody cheek she has. Bess could have come to me herself. You’re not family.’
‘That’s not exactly correct, Dick, now is it? My wife is your mother’s niece, and your first cousin.’
‘So what, I said, you’re not family, I wasn’t talking about Kathleen.’
Will recoiled, taken aback by this insulting remark. Gathering himself together, he said quietly, wanting to be conciliatory, ‘Elizabeth is their guardian along with you, don’t forget that, Dick.’
‘No! Ned wanted me to be in charge of them. Fully in charge, I might add.’
‘I think he wished you to be in charge of his sons if their mother was incapa
citated, not able to look after them, or dead. I honestly don’t believe he meant you to … control their lives.’
‘You’re overstepping the mark, just watch what you say!’
‘Richard, why are you being so antagonistic towards me, your brother’s oldest and dearest friend? This is so silly, we’re discussing two little boys, your brother’s children. They’re grief-stricken for their father, they need to be with their mother at this particular time, this truly sad time in their lives. They should be with their sisters as well. Those children mustn’t be separated this summer. Please let this ridiculous matter drop.’
‘They are going to go to Ravenscar and they will live there this summer with their grandmother and my son. Anne and I will be going to join them for weekends. Ravenscar is the family seat of the Deravenels, centuries old. They must be there to learn what it means to be a Deravenel, learn the history of our family, and learn to understand their responsibilities.’
‘Dick, they’re just little boys. Have a heart, for God’s sake.’
Ignoring this remark, Richard cried, ‘Stop calling me Dick, for Christ’s sake, I can’t stand it.’
Will held himself in check, and said as mildly as possible, ‘Please, Richard, for Ned’s sake, leave the boys alone, especially this year. They’re heartbroken, they need their mother.’
‘Don’t be maudlin with me. They have to learn to stand up and be men.’
Appalled, Will stared at him, his respect for Richard dwindling. ‘Is that your last word on it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I shall tell Bess that you are adamant about her brothers going to Ravenscar, and then it’s up to Elizabeth. As their mother, and their guardian, she has –’
‘Why can’t you get it through your head? I am their guardian.’
‘One of their guardians, Richard, not the sole guardian. I am an executor of Ned’s will, and so I know this is the way the codicil is worded. Elizabeth can discuss the matter with Ned’s solicitors, if she so wishes.’
‘Are you threatening me again?’ he shouted, his face congested with anger.
‘I have not threatened you at all,’ Will answered. ‘Stop being so daft. I’ve known you since you were a little lad in short pants.’
Losing his temper completely, Richard jumped up, took hold of Will’s arm and tried to strong-arm him out of his office.
Startled, and taken unawares, Will struggled hard, tried to extricate himself. Richard let go of him; a moment later he rushed at him even harder. Raising both hands Richard pushed Will hard, hitting him on the chest. Not expecting such a violent shove, Will lost his balance, and went down hard, hitting his head on the edge of the open door.
Out of breath and panting, Richard stood over Will, staring down at him. ‘Come on, get up, and let’s get on with the day’s business,’ Richard exclaimed.
When Will did not move or say anything, he frowned, bent over him. It was then he noticed the trickle of blood on the carpet, under Will’s head. Alarmed, Richard felt for a pulse and found one. Faint though it was, it told him Will Hasling was alive, but he was obviously unconscious. He took hold of Will’s feet and pulled him away from the door. Then, Richard stepped behind his desk, turned on the intercom. ‘Eileen?’
‘Yes, Mr Deravenel?’ his secretary asked.
‘Mr Hasling just passed out. He wasn’t feeling very well when he came into my office. Would you please call an ambulance. He appears to be unconscious. We must get him to a hospital.
Fourteen years ago, when Amos Finnister had come to work at Deravenels, ‘to watch my back,’ as Edward had said to him, he was given the title of Chief of Security. That had been his actual job, as well as looking after Edward Deravenel’s security and welfare.
He was well liked, was, in fact, rather popular with everyone, and he had created his own little network of spies and informants throughout the entire company. And so within minutes he was surreptitiously informed that Will Hasling had collapsed in Richard Deravenel’s office and was unconscious. The informant added that an ambulance was on its way.
Amos was not only nonplussed, but highly suspicious. Twenty minutes earlier, Will Hasling had been fit and well, talking to him and Oliveri in the latter’s office.
What had happened in that short elapse of time? He did not know, but he certainly aimed to find out. After stopping to inform Alfredo that Will had been ‘taken ill’, these words uttered in an acerbic tone, he went to the room he still referred to as ‘Mr Edward’s office’.
The door was wide open; Richard was hovering; Eileen, his secretary, was looking upset, and two ambulance men were carefully lifting Will onto a stretcher.
Edging his way into the office, Amos immediately went over to Richard and asked, ‘What happened to Mr Hasling, Mr Deravenel?’
Richard stared at him, looking annoyed. ‘I don’t actually know.’
‘But he collapsed in your office, so I heard,’ Finnister retorted.
‘He did indeed. He came in to discuss something, then began complaining that he hadn’t been feeling well, and he suddenly fell down on the floor. He collapsed, just like that. It was most peculiar, Finnister, most peculiar.’
You can bet your bottom dollar on that, Finnister thought, but said, ‘I see. Well, he’s in good hands. These lads will look after him. I’ll see them out.’
Richard looked as if he was about to object, but obviously changed his mind. ‘As you wish, Finnister, as you wish.’
‘Shall I telephone Mrs Hasling? Or will you, sir?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of it,’ Richard said irritably, ushering Amos out after the ambulance men.
Oliveri was waiting for Amos in the lobby of Deravenels, by pre-arrangement, and they accompanied Will to the hospital. On the way he slowly came round, and when he saw Amos and Alfredo sitting with him he attempted to smile.
‘How do you feel, sir?’ Amos asked, bending over him in concern.
‘I’ve got a headache,’ Will muttered. ‘Where are we going?’
‘The hospital, Mr Hasling. Guy’s. It’s the nearest,’ Alfredo explained.
‘I see.’ He looked at Amos and said, ‘My wife, Amos … phone her, please.’
‘I will sir, and now you rest easy. You’ll be all right once we get you to the hospital. I’ll call Mrs H. from there.’
Will closed his eyes and passed out again.
Amos Finnister and Alfredo Oliveri were shown to a waiting room at Guy’s Hospital, and as they sat waiting to hear about Will Hasling’s condition they talked about the way he had so suddenly and unexpectedly become ill enough to collapse.
‘Collapsed – all my eye and Betty Martin,’ Finnister muttered, giving Alfredo a pointed look. ‘There was blood on the carpet in Mr Edward’s office, and falling onto a good Axminster is hardly going to make him bleed. He was either hit with something, or fell against a piece of furniture and then moved.’
Alfredo nodded, knowing better than to argue. It was Finnister who had been the policeman, and a good one, not he. ‘What are you suggesting, Amos? That our new boss is responsible?’
‘I am that. I just hope that Mr Will is going to be all right.’
An hour later one of the doctors finally emerged, came to report that Mr Hasling had suffered a head injury and concussion. He told them it had been decided to keep him in the hospital overnight for observation.
Oliveri looked at the doctor and asked, ‘May we see him?’
‘Not at the moment, I’m afraid. We are still doing tests.’
‘I believe Mr Hasling suffered a head wound, didn’t he?’ Finnister said. ‘I mean a wound that bled, correct?’
‘That’s true, sir, yes. We’ve been wondering about that. We think when he fell he struck his head on something hard. That’s the only explanation.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Finnister told the doctor, and then he and Oliveri left the hospital.
As it turned out, Will Hasling made a quick recovery, and several days aft
er being taken to Guy’s he was getting ready to go home. On Saturday, June the twelfth, the day he was leaving, he complained of feeling ill. An hour later he suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage which proved fatal.
Amos Finnister, as heartbroken as everyone else, was never able to find out exactly what happened between Will Hasling and Richard Deravenel that day in the office. But, forever after, he blamed Richard for Will Hasling’s untimely death. And so did everyone else. It was a black mark against Richard, and it was to haunt him.
FORTY-EIGHT
Ravenscar
The two boys walked down the steps cut into the cliff face, which led from the moorland to the shingled beach at Ravenscar, carrying their fishing rods. They were heading for their favourite spot on the beach, the Cormorant Rock.
The very first time they had gone fishing with their father, he had told them that this was the best place to fish, and to prove it to them he had caught several cod that day. Ever since then they had loved coming here to try their luck.
Young Edward was carrying the fishing basket, and he hoped it was going to be full by the time they returned to the house. He had promised Cook he would bring her a good catch, and she, in turn, had promised to make them fried fish for their dinner. He liked Mrs Latham, just as much as his father had. She was getting on now in years, so his grandmother kept saying, but his father had not wanted to send her off into retirement. ‘She’s only fifty-nine and in wonderful health,’ his father had kept saying recently, just before he had died, and when Grandmother had continued to murmur about replacing Cook, his father simply walked away, refusing to listen. Mrs Latham was there for life, according to Papa. He understood why his father had so liked Cook; she was motherly and warm, and very kind to everyone, and she made special things for them that were delicious. And, like Mrs Collet at the house in Kent, she helped him when he had toothache, which was very often these days.
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