She’s flirting with me, he thought, and discovered this made him feel rather happy. ‘I’m glad you like where you now live…I miss that house myself sometimes.’
‘In that case, you must come to tea with me when we’re back in London.’
‘I will enjoy that, Mrs Shaw.’
‘And so will I.’ She lifted the champagne flute, took a sip, and smiled at him over the rim of the glass. Placing the glass on the table, she licked her bottom lip with her tongue, then patted her mouth with the napkin.
He knew at that precise moment that he wanted her for himself. And he aimed to get her, however long it took him. This was his kind of woman, this pretty blonde with the face of an angel, so like Lily and obviously older than him, as Lily had been. Women like Jane Shaw appealed to him, had always given him a certain solace.
So naturally he went to tea with her. He hadn’t been able to resist. A week after he had returned from Paris, Edward sent Jane Shaw a short and very simple note, merely asking her to telephone him regarding the house in South Audley Street. An innocuous note should it fall into anybody else’s hands.
Jane had telephoned him immediately, and had invited him to tea the following afternoon.
When he walked in, the first thing he thought was that she was living in Lily’s house. Of course Lily had never lived there, and yet it pleased him that Jane now occupied it. After all, she was living where he himself had resided; it somehow made him feel close to her.
As she led him into the drawing room he smiled and nodded; she spoke to him of trivialities. He was not really paying attention. He was stunned by the way she looked today. Her soft blonde beauty was more appealing to him than ever. Jane Shaw was ravishing, wearing a soft lavender-coloured silk dress.
The tea tray had already been placed on a low table in front of the sofa, and she sat down there so that she had easy access, could pour the tea herself. ‘Come and sit next to me, Mr Deravenel.’
‘I will if you’ll stop calling me that. My name is Edward, but my close friends call me Ned.’
‘Then I shall too, and you must call me Jane.’
She poured his tea, dropped in a slice of lemon, remembering how he had taken it in Paris. Pouring a cup for herself, she thought of Paris, and felt a sudden rush of excitement inside, remembering the way he had looked at her, with such open desire written across his face; the way her skin tingled when he had held her hand. He made her feel desirable, very womanly, and wanted: a feeling long missing in her life. And of course she wanted him. How could any woman resist this most exceptional looking man, who was warm, charming and eager to please.
Becoming aware of the silence between them, Edward said, ‘I was very happy living in this charming little house. Are you?’
A startled look crossed her face and she replied, ‘I love the house, it’s really very different, and comfortable.’
He frowned, and put down the tea cup. ‘But you’re not happy living here?’ he probed.
There was a pause. ‘Not happy,’ she responded at last.
Edward understood immediately what she was endeavouring to convey. He nodded. ‘I’m so sorry.’ When she remained silent, he continued, ‘You’re not happy with your husband, are you?’
Jane sighed. ‘He’s a nice man, pleasant, very kind to me. It’s just that…well, we’re not compatible, I believe that is the best word to use. And also, he’s…away a great deal.’
Clearing his throat Edward said softly, ‘Dare I hope that we might lunch or dine together when you are…alone. No doubt the most convenient time for you.’
‘I would like that, yes, I truly would, Ned.’ She smiled at him as she said his name. ‘I could lunch with you tomorrow. My husband has gone to Provence again. He left this morning. But…’ She left her sentence unfinished.
‘But what?’ he asked, looking at her intently.
‘Where could we go for lunch? We are both married…it would be a little unseemly to be spotted together in a public place.’
‘Perhaps, yes, you have a point,’ he answered, thinking suddenly of Elizabeth’s jealousy, her volcanic rages when she imagined he had been with a woman.
‘I do want to, you know,’ Jane said somewhat tentatively, staring at him, momentarily dazed by the blueness of those eyes.
He took hold of her hand impulsively, kissed her palm, folded it over, then he smiled at her. ‘We can meet at the Cavendish Hotel in Jermyn Street, and—’
‘Oh no, surely not. The hotel has a…curious reputation.’
‘No, it doesn’t, not really. Yes, a lot of toffs use the place for a rendezvous, but it’s all very discreet. Rosa Lewis, the owner, is a good friend of mine. I shall book a suite there for lunch tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be seen going in,’ she murmured worriedly.
‘Just wear a hat with a heavy veil, dark clothes. No one will recognize you.’
There was only a moment’s hesitation before Jane nodded. ‘All right then,’ she murmured, looking at him.
Before he could stop himself, Edward leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth, letting his tongue linger.
Jane responded with passion, clutching his arm, but suddenly pulled away. ‘I’m afraid the parlour maid might come in at any moment.’
Edward smiled at her. ‘I can wait until tomorrow, when I will kiss you properly,’ he said.
The following morning he arrived at the Cavendish an hour early, to make sure everything was perfect. And it was. Rosa Lewis, smiling and chatting with him, showed him the suite.
‘The best in the house, Mr Deravenel,’ she said, glancing around. ‘And I put extra flowers in the bedroom as well as the sitting room, as you requested. The champagne will come up in a moment, on ice. However, you didn’t say what time you wished lunch to be served.’
‘I think at two o’clock, Mrs Lewis, that will be about right.’ Edward glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the sitting room. ‘My guest will arrive at noon, and we can have a leisurely drink before eating.’
‘Oh yes, very good, Mr Deravenel.’ With a smile and a nod, the proprietor of the hotel bustled out, her skirts swishing as she left.
Edward meandered around the suite, pleased with it. Furnished in perfect taste, it was decorated in pale colours, greys and pale blues, and the furniture was light in scale. What a relief to see rooms which were not burdened down with Victorian pieces, too much clutter and dark colours.
A moment later there was a knock on the door and as Edward called ‘Come in,’ the waiter entered, carrying a silver ice bucket and a bottle of champagne.
Nodding to the waiter, tipping him generously, Edward left the suite and went down to the lobby. As the grandfather clock struck noon Jane came through the front door of the hotel and glanced around.
‘Good morning,’ Ned greeted her, and taking hold of her arm he led her up the stairs to the first floor where the suite was located. Once they were inside the sitting room, Jane lifted her veil and smiled at Edward.
Smiling in return, he went and poured champagne and gave her a glass. ‘Lunch a little later. I thought we could sit and have a leisurely drink first.’
They went and sat down on the sofa together, and he continued, ‘We both know why we are here…because we have a need for each other, a need to be alone in private. To be with each other…’
‘I think we were both aware of each other, were attracted when we met in Paris. And I do know this is not about having lunch,’ Jane said, and then shook her head ‘I never thought that I would have an illicit relationship with a man, never in my life.’
‘I’m glad I am that man, darling.’ He put his glass down on a nearby table, and so did she. Drawing closer to her, he took her in his arms, kissed her.
Her arms went around him, and they clung to each other, kissing passionately. Unexpectedly, Edward let go of her and rose. He extended his hand to her and she took it. He pulled her up from the sofa and led her into the adjoining bedroom.
‘I have such an intol
erable need for you, Jane,’ he murmured. ‘I can hardly bear it.’
‘And I for you, Ned. A need I’ve never known before.’
He drew the curtains and then went over to her where she was standing in the middle of the floor. He removed her hat, threw it onto a chair, brought her into his arms and kissed her on the mouth, letting his tongue rest against hers. After a moment, he drew away, looked into her face. ‘Let’s find that bed.’
They lay together for a long time, touching, kissing, and stroking each other. ‘I want to learn you, learn your body,’ he whispered, and she responded, ‘And I you.’
And so they did: loving each other with enormous passion and then with tenderness. Lunch was forgotten. Jane had never known such joy. Edward knew with the utmost certainty that he had found a woman who was like Lily. This knowledge gave him an unexpected inner peace…there was a sudden absence of pain.
And so their love affair began.
It lasted for months and months, and they saw each other as much as they could. And in that time she never gave him a moment’s heartache.
Not until the day she ended it. Fear of discovery intruded, brought their romantic liaison to an end. Edward was bereft, unable to forget her.
FIFTY-SEVEN
London—1912
‘I’m going to ask you a question, Neville, and I absolutely insist you tell me the truth,’ Edward said, and gave his cousin a very direct look. ‘Promise me you’ll tell me the truth.’
Neville stared back and smiled, shaking his head. ‘I have a rather strong feeling this is what I think of as a dicey question. And I’ve discovered that when you tell people the truth they don’t always want to hear it. You know that to be correct, old chap.’
Edward began to laugh, and protested, ‘I’m not like that, and you know it. I’m very straightforward, and I want you to be, too. I’ll accept what you say.’
‘All right, what is this dicey question?’
Beckoning to the waiter, Edward ordered champagne for them both, and asked, ‘That does suit, doesn’t it? A drop of chilled bubbly?’
Neville nodded, and remarked, ‘Come along, Edward, ask me this very important question so that we can then relax.’
Leaning forward over the small occasional table, Edward lowered his voice and said, ‘Why does everyone hate my wife?’
Neville recoiled slightly, and gave Edward a long, questioning stare. ‘Ned, this is a very, very difficult question for me to answer.’
‘Because you think I won’t like it if you tell the truth? Is that what you mean?’
‘No, no, not at all, it’s just that, well…actually, Ned, I suppose people dislike Elizabeth for different reasons.’
‘I see…would you name some of those reasons for me…please.’
‘I don’t like to speak for others, you know.’
‘Then speak for yourself.’
‘All right, I will. Firstly, let me just say this…I think some members of the family, and our family friends, don’t like her because she doesn’t like us, and them, and she makes them aware of her dislike, and us, too.’
‘That’s not very clever, is it, Neville? Rather stupid, if you ask me.’
‘Well, you said it, not I,’ Neville shot back. ‘There’s something else, I’m afraid, as far as I’m concerned, that is.’
Again Edward leaned forward eagerly, wanting to hear what his cousin had to say. The upset in their relationship, the discord of several years ago had been just that: momentary. They had swiftly repaired any damage done between them, and Neville’s wedding reception for Edward and Elizabeth had been so beautiful, lavish and expensive, that all wounds, if there were any, had quickly healed. The two men had gone back to behaving normally with each other quickly, the Louis Charpentier debacle forgotten, and were as deeply involved in business today as they had always been since 1904. Tonight they were seated in the Long Gallery of the Ritz Hotel in Piccadilly, which had opened in 1906, and was the English replica of the Ritz in the Place Vendôme in Paris.
Edward said, ‘What sort of problem do you personally have with Elizabeth? Is it new? Or has it always been there?’
‘To tell you the truth, I feel certain she has always had a problem with me, because I really believe she sees me as having far too much influence over you. People sometimes do call you my protégé and I think she resents that as well. Then there’s the personal level…she does not like me as a man, actually. I believe she’s afraid of me, for some reason. What that can be I don’t know.’
‘Obviously, she doesn’t have a lot of judgement, but then I’ve always known that,’ Ned murmured. ‘She’s not stupid, not really, but there’s a lack of interest in things, a genuine lack of curiosity, and this makes her appear a dullard.’
‘That’s possible, of course. However, she also knows I don’t really approve of all these Wyland relatives working at Deravenels—’ Neville broke off, shook his head. ‘Did you have to give jobs to so many of them, Ned?’
This was said in such a comical way, although unintentionally so, that Ned burst out laughing. ‘Anthony Wyland is all right, Neville, and her father is decent. As for two of her brothers, I let them go this past week. It was top heavy with Wylands, and those two are incompetent.’
‘I’m glad to hear you got rid of some of them. I do agree with you though that Anthony’s quite a good chap.’
‘Why doesn’t Nan like her?’ Ned probed.
Neville let out a long sigh. ‘Mostly because Elizabeth’s haughty, a trifle arrogant, lords it over everyone, all of us, in fact. Richard, your Little Fish, got it right when he said she thought she was the Queen Bee.’
Edward laughed. ‘Richard can be witty, and he has really grown up in the past few years, don’t you think?’
‘I do, Ned, I’m rather proud of him. And George, too.’
‘George? I don’t know about George, he troubles me at times. But let’s face it, he’s always been a law unto himself.’
Clinking their glasses together, Edward said, ‘Here’s to you, Neville. And thank you for being honest with me.’
‘To you,’ Neville responded in kind, and took a long swallow of the champagne. He then asked, ‘What time are you meeting Aunt Cecily?’
‘My mother will be here at seven-thirty. Why? Are you in a hurry to get off?’
‘No, no, I was just wondering what time you would be dining?’
Ned nodded, and said slowly, ‘Going back to my wife, I know what Elizabeth is…she’s very ambitious for herself and her family, and she wants money and power. There’s an enormous unquenchable greed there, but somehow we’re managing to make this marriage of ours work.’
‘I realize that, Ned, but I’m sure it’s you who invests the most energy, makes the biggest effort.’
Ned merely smiled and took a sip of champagne.
His commanding height and astonishing good looks apart, Edward Deravenel was now extremely well-known in London, and he was automatically given the best table in the Ritz Restaurant. It was in a secluded rather private corner at the far end of the spacious room and overlooked Green Park.
‘So much snow,’ his mother said to him, glancing out of the window. ‘It’s been one of the worst Januarys I’ve known for years. The traffic’s been terrible in London, hasn’t it?’
Edward grinned at her, and exclaimed, ‘Just be glad we’re not up at Ravenscar. There’s no traffic there, I’ll concede that, but you’d be already frozen into a block of ice, Mama. We all would.’
Cecily Deravenel laughed with her son, and took a sip of the Pouilly Fuissé, remarking, ‘This is a lovely wine, Ned. Your father always enjoyed it, and so do I. It’s my favourite.’
Edward merely nodded, preoccupied for a moment, thinking how truly elegant his mother looked this evening. She was wearing a deep-purple silk gown, trimmed with the same coloured lace, and the triple string of pearls he had given her for Christmas looked wonderful against the purple. Her hair was smoothed back from her face, worn in a Frenc
h twist, and her face was remarkably unlined for a woman in her early fifties.
‘You’re gawping at me, Ned,’ she murmured, using a very North Country word, emphasizing it. ‘Is there something wrong with my appearance?’
‘I’m sorry, how rude,’ he apologized. Then he smiled, shook his head. ‘Nothing is wrong. In fact, I was thinking how elegant you look tonight, really beautiful, Mother. No one would ever guess you’re a grandmother.’
‘Thank you, darling, and tell me, how are the girls?’
His face lit up, and his bright blue eyes sparkled, ‘Just marvellous—so quick and alert and bright as new pennies, they’re lovely little things.’
‘I’m very proud of them. It doesn’t seem possible that Bess will be three in February. Time does fly, you know, it seems like only yesterday she was being christened in the chapel at Ravenscar.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve never seen anyone look as awkward as Neville did, when he was holding Bess at the font. I truly thought he was going to drop her.’
‘I knew he wouldn’t, Mother…he didn’t dare,’ Ned answered and drank from his tall glass of water.
Cecily said, ‘How is Elizabeth? Is she feeling all right?’
‘She’s absolutely fine, Mother, in the best of health, as she always is, actually. But I know she’ll be relieved when the baby is born in March. She says she’s beginning to feel top heavy.’
‘I remember that feeling from my own child-bearing years. Anyway, she only has another two months. And how are you? Is everything all right between you both?’ Cecily disliked probing, asking questions about her son’s marriage, but there had been some rocky moments over the past few years, and she worried a lot.
‘We’re like an old well-married couple these days, trudging along together,’ he answered good-naturedly. ‘I go to work and Elizabeth has babies one after the other. First Bess, then Mary, and now there’ll be another one any moment.’
The Ravenscar Dynasty Page 49
