This Was a Man

by Jeffrey Archer

  “But why not, my dear? After all, you may never get another chance like this again.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But I’m already feeling guilty about leaving Papa to fend for himself.”

  “No need to, my dear, believe me. In any case, there will be more than enough of us to make sure he’s well occupied. So off you go, and show those Yanks what we British are made of.”

  “I know that’s what he wants,” said Alice, “but I just can’t bear the idea of him being on his own so soon after dear Mama’s death.”

  “You needn’t worry yourself on that count,” said Virginia, who was pleased to see Giles paying his respects to the duke before he left.

  Virginia gave Alice a warm hug before heading off in search of her final prey. A mother, a father, and three small children were not difficult to locate, but this time she wasn’t greeted with quite the same enthusiasm.

  “Hello, I’m—” began Virginia.

  “I know exactly who you are,” said Lady Camilla, and before Virginia could deliver her next well-prepared sentence, she turned her back on her and started chatting to an old school friend, making no attempt to include Virginia in the conversation. Virginia quickly took her leave before anyone could notice the slight. Two out of three wasn’t a bad return, especially as the one failure lived on the other side of the world. Virginia saw no purpose in hanging around any longer, so she made her way across to the duke to bid him farewell … for now.

  “I’ve had the most enjoyable time renewing my acquaintance with your delightful children,” she said. She wondered if he knew how little she’d seen of them during the past twenty years, not least because of the late duchess’s attempts to keep them apart.

  “And I’m sure they enjoyed seeing you again,” said the duke. “I hope I will too, and in the not-too-distant future,” he added, “if you have nothing better to do.”

  “Nothing would give me greater pleasure. I’ll wait for you to be in touch,” she said, as a small queue began to form behind her.

  “My family are only able to be with me for a few more days,” whispered the duke. “Once they’ve all gone their separate ways, may I give you a call?”

  “I’ll look forward to that, Perry,” a name only the late duchess and the duke’s oldest friends ever used when addressing his grace, the Duke of Hertford.

  Once Camilla had seen Virginia depart, she didn’t waste any time before joining her brother.

  “Did I see you talking to that frightful woman, Virginia Fenwick?”

  “You did,” said Clarence. “She seems a nice enough lady, and she promised to keep an eye on Pa while we’re all away.”

  “I’ll bet she did. If anything would stop me going back to New Zealand, it’s the thought of that woman getting her hands on Pa.”

  “But she couldn’t have been more considerate.”

  “Don’t allow that consummate actress to fool you for one moment.”

  “Why are you so set against her, Camilla, when all she wants to do is help?”

  “Because dear Mama always had a good word for everyone, and she had two for the Lady Virginia Fenwick. Scheming bitch.”

  * * *

  “How long have I got?” asked Virginia.

  “The Revenue will grant you no more than ninety days before they begin proceedings, my lady,” replied the bank manager.

  “So how long have I got?” repeated Virginia.

  Mr. Leigh turned over several pages of his diary before he responded. “The final day for payment, unless you wish to be saddled with extortionate interest, is December twenty-first.”

  “Thank you,” said Virginia, before leaving the bank manager’s office without another word.

  She could only wonder how long it would be before the duke got in touch, because if he didn’t call soon, she would be spending Christmas Day in Buenos Aires.

  23

  VIRGINIA DIDN’T HAVE TO wait long before the duke called and invited her out on their first date. And that was certainly how she regarded their evening at Mosimann’s. She was coy, flattering, and flirtatious, and made him feel twenty years younger, or at least that’s what he told her when he dropped her back at her flat in Chelsea, with a kiss on both cheeks. Appropriate for a first date, thought Virginia. She didn’t invite her paramour in for coffee for several reasons, not least because he couldn’t have failed to notice that there were only hooks where paintings had once hung.

  The duke rang the following morning and invited Virginia out on a second date.

  “I’ve got tickets for Noises Off starring Paul Eddington, and I thought we might have supper afterward.”

  “How sweet of you, Perry. But unfortunately I have to attend a charity gala this evening,” she said, looking down at an empty page in her diary. “But I’m free on Thursday evening.”

  After that, her dance card had only one name on it.

  Virginia was surprised how much she enjoyed her role as the duke’s companion, confidante, and friend, and quickly grew used to a style of life she had always assumed was hers by right. However, she had to accept that the taxman was still demanding his pound of flesh, 185,000 pounds of flesh to be exact, and that if she didn’t pay up, this idyllic existence would stop as abruptly as a train hitting the buffers.

  She considered asking Perry for a loan to cover her tax bill, but felt it was a little too soon, and if he thought that was the only reason she’d shown any interest in him, the relationship would surely end as quickly as it had begun.

  * * *

  Over the next few weeks, the duke showered her with gifts of flowers, clothes, even jewelry, and although she considered returning them to some of the more fashionable establishments on Bond Street in exchange for cash, it wouldn’t have even made a dent in the taxman’s demand. In any case, it would only be a matter of time before the duke found out what she had been up to.

  However, when the weather changed from a chilly November to a freezing December, Virginia began to despair, and decided that she had no choice but to tell Perry the truth, whatever the consequences.

  She selected his seventieth birthday as the day of revelation, during a celebration dinner at Le Gavroche. She was well prepared, having spent most of her monthly allowance on a gift for Perry that she could ill afford. Cartier had crafted a pair of gold cufflinks, engraved with the Hertford crest. She would need to choose the right moment to present them, and then explain why she would be leaving for Buenos Aires early in the New Year.

  During the meal, which consisted mostly of vintage champagne, the duke became a little maudlin and began talking about “crossing the finishing line,” his euphemism for death.

  “Don’t be silly, Perry,” Virginia reprimanded him. “You have many years ahead of you before you need to think about anything quite so depressing, especially if I’ve got anything to do with it. And don’t forget, I promised the children I’d keep you going.”

  “And you’ve more than kept your end of the bargain, old gal. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without you,” he added as he took her hand.

  Virginia had become accustomed to the duke’s little signs of affection, even a hand reaching under the table and ending up on her thigh. But tonight, it remained there while the maître d’ opened another bottle of champagne. Virginia had drunk very little that evening, as she needed to be as sober as a judge when she delivered her plea in mitigation. She chose that moment to present him with his birthday present.

  He slowly unwrapped it, before opening the leather box.

  “My darling Virginia, how kind of you. I’ve never had a more thoughtful present in my life.” He leaned across and kissed her gently on the lips.

  “I’m so glad you like it, Perry. Because it’s almost impossible to find something for a man who has everything.”

  “Not quite everything, my darling,” he replied, still clutching her hand.

  Virginia decided there was never going to be a better moment to tell him about her problem with the taxm
an.

  “Perry, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  “I know,” he said. Virginia looked surprised. “You were going to ask, your place or mine?”

  Virginia giggled like a schoolgirl, but didn’t lose her concentration, although she suddenly realized she should perhaps delay telling him about her imminent departure, as there might be an even better opportunity to plead her case a little later.

  The duke raised his other hand, and a moment later the maître d’ appeared by his side bearing a silver tray on which there lay a single slip of paper. Virginia had become used to checking the details of every bill before allowing the duke to write out a check. It was not unknown for a restaurant to add an extra dish, even another bottle of wine, after a guest had consumed a little too much.

  It was when she opened the bill and saw the figure £18.50, that the idea first crossed her mind. But could she risk it? She had to admit such a gift-wrapped opportunity was unlikely to present itself again. She waited for the sommelier to pour him a second glass of Taylor’s before she declared, “The bill’s fine, Perry. Shall I write out a check while you enjoy your port?”

  “Good idea, old gal,” said the duke, taking out his checkbook and handing it to her. “Be sure to add a generous tip,” he said as he drained his glass. “It’s been a memorable evening.”

  Virginia wrote out the figure 185,000, having moved the comma and added two noughts. She dated the check December 3rd, 1982, before placing it in front of him. He signed unsteadily, just below where Virginia’s finger covered the noughts. When he disappeared to “spend a penny,” another of his oft-used euphemisms, Virginia deposited the check in her handbag, took out her own checkbook, and wrote out the correct figure. She handed it to the maître d’ just before Perry returned.

  “It’s the duke’s birthday,” she explained, “so it’s my treat.”

  Marco didn’t comment that she’d forgotten to add the generous tip the duke had suggested.

  Once they were seated in the back of the duke’s Rolls-Royce, he immediately leaned across, took Virginia in his arms, and kissed her; the kiss of a man who was hoping for more.

  When the car stopped outside the duke’s home in Eaton Square, the chauffeur rushed around to open the back door, giving Virginia enough time to straighten her dress while the duke buttoned up his jacket. The duke led Virginia into the house, where they found the butler waiting for them, as if it was midday, not midnight.

  “Good evening, your grace,” he said, before taking their coats. “Will you require your usual brandy and cigar?”

  “Not tonight, Lomax,” the duke replied, as he took Virginia by the hand and led her up the sweeping staircase and into a room she’d never entered before. The bedroom was about the same size as her flat, and dominated by an antique oak four-poster, adorned with the family crest Ever Vigilant.

  Virginia was about to comment on the Constable hanging above the Adam fireplace, when she felt the zip on the back of her dress being clumsily pulled down. She made no attempt to stop it falling to the floor, and began to unbuckle the duke’s belt as they edged unsteadily toward the bed. She couldn’t remember when she’d last made love, and could only hope that the same was true for the duke.

  He was like a schoolboy on a first date, petting and fumbling, clearly needing her to take the lead, which she was happy to do.

  “That’s the best birthday present I could have hoped for,” he said once his heartbeat had returned to normal.

  “Me too,” said Virginia, but he didn’t hear her, because he’d fallen asleep.

  When Virginia woke the following morning, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. She began to consider the consequences of everything that had taken place the previous evening. She had already decided not to present the check for £185,000 until December 23rd, confident that it wouldn’t be cleared before Christmas, possibly even the New Year.

  However, there was an outside chance that someone along the line would consider it their duty to alert the duke about such a large withdrawal. There was also the possibility—although it seemed unlikely to Virginia—that the check might bounce. If either of these catastrophes occurred, she’d be on her way to Heathrow not Castle Hertford, because it wouldn’t be HM Inspector of Taxes pursuing her but an ever vigilant duke, and she suspected his daughter Camilla wouldn’t be far behind.

  The duke had already invited Virginia to spend Christmas on his estate in Hertford. But she had only accepted when she learned that Camilla and her family wouldn’t be traveling over from New Zealand, as they felt two trips to England within a few months was an unnecessary extravagance.

  Virginia had written to Clarence and Alice regularly during the past few weeks, to keep them up to date on everything their father was up to, or at least her version of it. In their replies, both of them made it clear how delighted they were that she would be joining them at Castle Hertford for Christmas. The idea that at the last moment she might have to beat a hasty retreat and spend the New Year in Buenos Aires with a distant cousin wasn’t that appealing.

  When the duke finally awoke, he knew exactly where he was. He turned over, delighted to find that Virginia hadn’t already left. He took her in his arms, and spent considerably longer making love a second time. She began to feel confident that this wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

  * * *

  “Why don’t you move in with me?” the duke suggested as Virginia straightened his tie.

  “I’m not sure that would be wise, Perry, especially if the children are staying at the castle over Christmas. Perhaps early in the New Year, once they’ve gone?”

  “Well, at least stay with me until they arrive?”

  Virginia happily agreed to his request, but only ever left one change of clothes at Eaton Square, aware that she might be sent packing at a moment’s notice. The morning Clarence landed at Heathrow she reluctantly returned to her little flat in Chelsea, where she soon realized how much she missed not only her new way of life, but also Perry.

  JESSICA CLIFTON

  1982–1984

  24

  “I’M SURPRISED YOU didn’t see that one coming, Pops,” said Jessica as she joined her father for breakfast.

  “And of course you did,” said Sebastian. Jake began tapping a spoon on his high chair to gain attention. “And I don’t need your opinion, young man.”

  “He’s just preparing to take over as chairman of Farthings Kaufman.”

  “I was rather hoping I might be the next chairman.”

  “Not if Lady Virginia continues to run circles around you.”

  “You seem to forget, young lady, that Virginia had the inside track. She was regularly visiting Mellor in prison, and we now know she’d not only read the letter he wrote to his daughter, but had been in touch with her long before my plane touched down in Chicago.”

  “But you had a chance to get control of the company for a pound before that, and you turned it down.”

  “At the time, if I remember correctly, you were against me even visiting Mellor in prison, and made your position very clear.”

  “Touché,” said Samantha, picking up the spoon Jake had cast on the kitchen floor.

  “You should have realized that if there was even a chance of Virginia making some money on the side,” pressed Jessica, ignoring her mother, “she wasn’t to be trusted.”

  “And may I ask when you worked all this out? During one of your O level economics classes, no doubt?”

  “She didn’t have to,” said Samantha, placing a rack of toast on the table. “She’s been eavesdropping on our breakfast conversations for the past six months. It’s nothing more than hindsight, so don’t rise, Seb.”

  “Plus a little female intuition,” insisted Jessica.

  “Well, in case you didn’t notice, young lady, Thomas Cook did take over Mellor Travel, and their shares continue to rise, despite your misgivings.”

  “But they had to pay far more than you’d originally intended.
And what I’d like to know,” continued Jessica, “is how much of the extra money ended up in Virginia’s pocket.”

  Sebastian didn’t know, though he suspected it was more than the bank was paid, but he took Samantha’s advice and didn’t rise to the bait.

  “Not a bad return for half a dozen prison visits,” were Jessica’s parting words, after giving Jake a huge hug.

  Samantha smiled as her daughter left the room. She had told Seb soon after Jake’s birth that she was anxious about how Jessica might respond to the new arrival, having been the center of attention for so long. But the exact opposite turned out to be the case, because Jake immediately became the center of Jessica’s life. She was happy to babysit whenever her parents wanted to go out in the evening, and at weekends she would wheel him around St. James’s park in his pram, before putting him to bed. Elderly matrons cooed over him, not sure if Jessica was an attentive older sister or a young unmarried mother.

  Jessica had settled down quickly in her adopted country, after finally bringing her parents to their senses, and now she rejoiced not only in their happiness, but in the joy of having a baby brother. She adored her new extended family. Pops, who was tolerant, kind, and amusing; Grandpops who was wise, thoughtful, and inspiring; and Grandma who the press often dubbed “the Boadicea of Bristol,” which made Jessica feel Boadicea must have been one hell of a woman.

  However, settling into her new school hadn’t proved quite as easy. While some of the girls called her the Yank, others less generously described her as a stick insect. Jessica concluded that the Mafia and the Ku Klux Klan combined could have learned a great deal about intimidation from the pupils of St. Paul’s Girls’ School, and by the end of her first year, she only had one close friend, Claire Taylor, who shared most of her interests, including boys.

  * * *

  During her final year at St. Paul’s, Jessica hovered around the middle of the class, regularly beaten by Claire in every subject except art, where she remained unassailable. While most of her classmates were anxious about being offered a university place, no one doubted where Jessica was heading.