Edward closed his eyes and thought of Lily, his darling Lily.
She would approve of Jane, I know she would. Just as I’ve always known Lily would not like Elizabeth. My wife is too cold, calculating and greedy for the kind of woman Lily was. Jane is so like her. I thought that from the moment we collided in Paris in 1908. She is affectionate and filled with warmth, kind and considerate, makes few demands of me, other than wanting my love. And I do love Jane. I gave her up because I loved her. She was so afraid of a scandal, I ended our affair in 1909. Then we resumed it in 1910 for a short while. Finally I went away because she became ill with anxiety, worry and guilt. But her marriage to Bryan Shaw had never been happy. It was sexless, and when she had discovered he had a mistress she came to me, asked me what she should do, and I told her to get a divorce, said that I would look after her financially, although that has not been necessary. Shaw was generous with her since he was the guilty party, and he wanted to end his marriage. And in the time we have been apart I have been faithful, have had no women other than my wife.
Elizabeth is difficult. But I care for her in my own way. She is still the most beautiful of women, and she has great taste in clothes, and immense style, and I love her glamour. She has, under my tutelage, learned to run this rather grand house, and the lovely old manor I bought in Kent a few years ago, on the Romney Marshes.
She is the mother of my daughters, and she is carrying my third child. And she will be the mother of my heir, if not this time, then the next. There can be no divorce. Jane understands that. She knows I must have sons, and she cannot have children. That had been one of the problems in her marriage to Shaw.
As my mother said tonight, Elizabeth is an excellent hostess, gracious and skilled at entertaining, and everything runs smoothly at our homes. Life seems to be on an even keel.
My mother knows deep down that I am not happy with my wife. I’m quite sure she realizes I have compromised, made an accommodation, as indeed I have. Elizabeth and I have nothing in common except our children, and our routine family life. Yes, we are compatible in bed, and she is passionate sexually. But we have nothing much to say to each other. She’s basically a dull woman in many ways, although she can be entertaining when she discusses friends, gossips to me about the people we know. She does occasionally like to go with me to the theatre, which she realizes I enjoy, and to concerts, although she knows nothing about music. And I’ve hardly ever seen her read a book.
I can only be glad that I have my work. I love Deravenels with a passion and in the last few years I have made the company stronger than ever. And I enjoy every minute I’m at the office. But sometimes a man needs a woman to talk to, to share things with. Jane and I share a love of art; she has taught me so much about it. She is the one who found me the Sisley, and two years ago she spotted the Renoir which now hangs in my bedroom. She has a wonderful eye when it comes to paintings, and she loves books as much as I do.
So…I have a mistress again.
I made a bargain. I aim to keep it.
Sitting up in the chair, Edward lifted the brandy balloon to his lips and took a swallow, put the glass down, and stared into the blazing fire, thinking about his cousin Neville.
I don’t trust him anymore. He’s up to something. I know it. Will senses it, too. It’s never been the same really since I married Elizabeth. He’s always resented that I acted on my own. Tonight I wanted to see him, to test the waters. It was just an excuse, my questions about his attitude towards my wife. He was clever in his answers, he always is somewhat foxy. Still, things are now very different. I challenged his authority when I picked a wife for myself and he’s not the kind of man to be thwarted. Will has warned me that he is becoming ever closer to George. Well, they’re cousins, but George is ambitious, envious, and I know he is jealous of my relationship with my Little Fish. He always has been. Meg constantly sided with George, he has long been her favourite. She’s not here to defend him these days, though. Yes, I must keep an eye on George…
As for Neville, he does play the game, keeps on working at my side, but there’s a gap between us now. I almost laughed out loud tonight when he said people think of me as his protégé…no one has thought such a thing for years. They’ve all come to understand I’m not his puppet, that I never have been…
‘Papa! Papa!’
Edward instantly turned around and saw a miniature replica of himself standing there in the doorway of the library, his little daughter Bess in her white nightgown. Her burnished red hair was tumbling down over her shoulders, and her vivid blue eyes were focused intently on him.
He jumped up and went to her, picked her up in his arms and carried her back to the fireplace. Sitting down in the chair, cradling her, he looked into her face, and asked, ‘Sweetheart, what are you doing down here in the middle of the night?’
‘I woke up and it was dark and I was afraid. I went looking for you, Papa.’
‘But what happened to your night light?’
‘It went out…I went to your bedroom, Papa, and Mama’s room.’ She shook her head. ‘I just wanted to find you. I was afraid.’
He kissed her cheek, hugged her to him. ‘I’m here, I’ll always be here to look after you. I love you, Bess.’
‘Will you love me when the boy comes…the heir? Mama says she’s giving you the boy…the heir…’
‘Now how could I ever stop loving you, my darling! You are my first born, Bess, and so you are very, very special to me.’
She smiled up at him, and a most beautiful smile filled her face with radiance.
At the age of nineteen George Deravenel was a strapping young man with light blond hair and unusual smokey-green eyes. He had inherited the superior good looks of the Deravenel family, and was somewhat vain. He thought he gave his brother Edward competition. But this was not true at all. He did not have Edward’s unique height, nor beauty of face, and he certainly did not possess Edward’s charisma and presence.
Because he did not know this he had developed a sort of swagger, and a confident manner that sometimes could border on the belligerent if he was crossed. He walked with a spring in his step, a regal tilt to his head, and of course women were attracted to him. However, George was only interested in one woman. Isabel Watkins. He had always hankered after her since childhood, and he aimed to have her. Neville was all for it; Ned objected. But Ned was going to be overruled. By Neville.
Now as he stood waiting for his cousin, looking out of the window into the Haymarket, he wondered what news Neville had for him this morning. He had been summoned to Neville’s office urgently.
‘Sorry to keep you,’ Neville said as he came striding into the boardroom. ‘How are you, George, my boy?’
‘In fine fettle, Cousin,’ George said, shaking Neville’s hand.
‘Let’s sit down, have a chat for a few minutes. I know you’re anxious to know what this is about.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘How do you feel about taking over the top job at Deravenels?’
Startled, George sat up straighter in the chair. He frowned. ‘How can I do that? Ned has the top job.’
‘I put him in that seat. And I can take him out of it.’
George leaned closer, intrigued. A wide smile spread across his face. ‘Unseat Ned? Never. You couldn’t do that.’
‘Oh but I can. I have so much dirt on him I can twist his arm if necessary.’
‘If you mean about women, don’t even bother. Elizabeth knows about his extramarital activities, and if she cares she tries not to show it. She wants the money and the position. She’ll turn a blind eye.’
‘Not if she knows that he’s about to buy his current mistress a house, and that he lavishes thousands and thousands on her. Elizabeth won’t stand for that.’
‘Well, you do have a good point. So, you’ll twist his arm and put me in his place. Is that what you are getting at?’
‘I am indeed.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Ned won’t take Deravene
ls higher, as I’ve recommended. He’s making a mistake. I want us to buy all of the holdings of Louis Charpentier. Deravenels will become the biggest in the world.
‘I thought we already were.’
‘Yes, But what about even bigger.’
‘Does Charpentier want to sell…I thought that all died with Edward’s marriage to Elizabeth.’
‘It did for a while, but I’ve revived it. Naturally Deravenels will have to pay more now, because Blanche has married someone. Nevertheless, it will be a good deal.’
‘I don’t know whether I can run the company, Neville,’ George began, but stopped when Neville held up his hand.
‘I will be there to guide you, I will be your mentor as I was Ned’s mentor.’ Neville said.
‘I see.’ George nodded.
‘And you will have help from John Summers.’
‘Why John Summers? He’s the enemy!’
‘No, not necessarily. You see, the Grants do own a massive amount of shares in the company, and they should, by rights, be represented by someone. And there is no one better than John. Also he knows how to handle Deravenels on the inside. He would work with you.’
There was a knock on the door, and Neville rose, went to open it. ‘Oh John, do come in, we’ve been waiting for you,’ he said, and led John Summers into the boardroom.
George stood, and the two men shook hands. Then the three of them sat down at the table, and began to talk Deravenel business. At the end of half an hour, John Summers rose, and said, ‘Thank you, Neville, for explaining. Everything is now perfectly clear to me. I look forward to our meetings in Paris with Louis Charpentier.’
John looked at George and gave him the benefit of a warm smile. ‘And I certainly look forward to working with you at Deravenels.’
‘I simply don’t understand why this is suddenly happening,’ Margot Grant said, giving John Summers a long, questioning look. ‘It beggars belief.’
‘No, no, it doesn’t. It is perfect in its simplicity. Replace Edward Deravenel with George. The younger brother is easy to manipulate and control. I shall be working alongside him, and it will be the perfect situation.’
‘Why? Why is Neville Watkins suddenly on our side? Tell me that.’
‘In my opinion he has lost control of Edward Deravenel and did so a long time ago. He was also extremely humiliated when he had to go back to Louis and tell him that Edward, the intended bridegroom in the arranged marriage with Blanche, was in fact already married. And to marry a Wyland at that. Neville was fit to be tied, I am positive. He couldn’t stomach that his beloved protégé had married the enemy. And in general, he’s lost favour over the years. Oh they keep up a pretence, but that’s what it is really, a pretence.’
Margot jumped up, began to pace up and down the dining room in her Upper Grosvenor Street house, ignoring her lunch, so agitated was she.
John, looking slightly alarmed, put down his fork, and exclaimed, ‘Good Lord, Margot, why are you so excited?’
‘I just feel uneasy about Neville Watkins coming over to our side.’
‘It’s going to be all right, I promise you,’ John soothed. ‘In any case, it’s certainly worth investigating, going along with everyone. For the moment. I shall meet with them in Paris as arranged. Louis Charpentier is anxious to talk to George, who is going to Paris with Neville. We will be meeting in a few days.’
‘All right,’ she murmured, and went and sat down, adding, ‘I trust you, John. With my life.’
‘I’ll do my best to make it work, don’t worry, Margot,’ John answered in an assured and confident voice, but his demeanour was somewhat fraudulent. He was going along with Watkins and Charpentier because he knew he had nothing to lose. However, he was fully aware that Edward Deravenel had a complete grip on the company. Furthermore he had never underestimated the man, whom he knew was clever, ambitious and ruthless. John thought that Neville Watkins might well be deluding himself about unseating Edward and putting George in his place. In his opinion George Deravenel was a fool, easily led, filled with conceit and very few brains.
We shall see, John Summers thought. We shall indeed see who comes out the winner. And he wasn’t going to put his money on Watkins.
FIFTY-EIGHT
‘Read all abart it! Read all abart it!’ the newspaper boy shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Titanic sinks! Hundreds dead!’
Amos Finnister, hurrying down the Strand, stopped in his tracks, and gaped at the paperboy, stared at the large white poster he was holding, which was obviously hot off the presses.
TITANIC DISASTER, it read, and underneath: GREAT LOSS OF LIFE, and then the name of the paper in slightly smaller print: Evening News.
Rushing over to the paperboy, Amos slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out a few coins and gave them to the boy, almost snatching the newspaper from him.
‘Bad news, guv,’ the boy said. ‘Summfink ’orrible, it is.’
Nodding, moving up against the wall of a building, Amos read the headline again, and then opened the paper and began to read the first page inside.
And what he was reading chilled him to the bone. This great ocean-going liner, the unsinkable Titanic they called it, had sunk.
Unbelievable, he thought, and went on reading, gobbling the words down.
The lookouts had seen the iceberg ahead, at around
11:40 p.m. on the night of Sunday, April 14. Then the iceberg had struck the Titanic on the starboard side of her bow. At 11:50, only ten minutes later, water had poured in and risen 14 feet in the front part of the ship. At 12 midnight the captain had been informed the ship could only stay afloat for a couple of hours. He told the radio operators to send out signals for help, and orders were given to uncover the lifeboats and to get passengers and crew ready on deck. There was only enough room in the lifeboats for half the estimated 2,227 people on board.
Jesus Christ! God help me! Amos muttered, horrified. He read on, and learned that the Carpathia, southeast of the Titanic by fifty-eight miles, had picked up the distress calls and headed full speed to the rescue. The first lifeboat was lowered safely, and left—with only twenty-eight passengers, when it could have carried sixty-five. Distress signals were sent up. The last lifeboat eventually left at 2:05 a.m. and there were still 1,500 people on the ship as it tilted precariously, the deck of the Titanic growing steeper and steeper.
Amos stopped reading. His hands were shaking uncontrollably; he could hardly stand. All he could think of was Charlie and Maisie and what a narrow escape they had had. The brother and sister had been due to sail on the Titanic, going back to New York. They had been in London for three months, having a holiday, full of their success, fame and glory as popular stars on the New York stage. And then Maisie had fallen sick, with pneumonia, of all things to get in the spring, and their passage had been cancelled. They were staying in Whitechapel with friends while Maisie recuperated.
Thank God, he muttered again, and tucking the paper under his arm, he continued on down the Strand, heading for Deravenel House.
All of the staff knew him well, and he went right in, across the large foyer and up the stairs, nodding to those he knew as he did. His appointment was with Mr Deravenel, and as he glanced at the wall clock he saw that he was right on time. It was just ten-thirty.
‘How are you doing, Finnister?’ Edward asked a few moments later, coming around the desk, shaking Amos’s hand.
‘Not too badly, sir, thank you,’ Amos replied, nodding. ‘And I can see you too are in good health, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.’
‘Yes, I am well, Finnister, but I’m not so sure about your good self. You look a bit peaked to me. Is anything wrong?’
‘Well, no, sir, not exactly. It’s just that I’ve been reading about the Titanic going down before coming here. It gave me a bit of a shock. A couple of friends of mine were going to New York on it, but they had to cancel.’
‘Thank God they did! Ghastly thing, this disaster,’ Ned went on, shaking his head. ‘Ther
e will have to be a bit of an investigation, in my opinion. I’ve been reading about it myself in The Times, and it seems to me a lot of mistakes were made in the last twenty-four hours. God only knows why they didn’t slow down after the warnings. Why weren’t there more lifeboats?’
‘It does seem odd, Mr Deravenel, yes, sir.’
‘Please sit down, Finnister. You said on the telephone you needed to speak to me privately, and very urgently. What’s this all about?’
Amos gave Edward a very direct look and began, in a low, steady voice, ‘Mr Deravenel, I’m going to do something now I never dreamed I would do in my whole life. I’m afraid I have no option. My conscience tells me that I must do it.’
Edward leaned across the desk, staring at Amos, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘What are you going to do? Please tell me, won’t you?’
‘I am going to betray one man to protect another—a man I have the most tremendous regard for, and that is you, Mr Deravenel. And I have to betray your cousin in order to save you.’
Edward nodded slowly. ‘Obviously what you’re going to tell me must be in confidence, am I correct?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have my promise, Finnister. It will be confidential, that I do promise you. I will never repeat what you tell me to anyone.’
‘I trust you, sir, and I just want to say this, in case you’re wondering why I come to you, come to warn you, betray your cousin’s trust. Over the years I have grown to respect you enormously, and I know that you’re a good man. Decent, fair, and honest. And you’ve been good to Grace Rose. You made sure she’ll always be safe, and that is a wonderful thing to know, sir. I have a bit of an interest, you see.’
‘Thank you,’ Edward murmured. ‘I know how much you care about her.’
‘Your cousin, Mr Neville Watkins, assigned me to follow you…and I did this, Mr Deravenel, I have to admit it. He wanted to know everything about your personal and private life. I did discover that you go frequently to your old house in South Audley Street.’
The Ravenscar Dynasty Page 51
