Heirs of Ravenscar (37 page)

‘Perfect.'

Edward awakened suddenly in the middle of the night. He felt as if he had steel bands fastened around his chest. The pain was excruciating. He tried to move, to sit up, and found he could not. Rolling, he managed to turn himself on his side, and that felt a bit better. He realized then that his right side was hurting him. And then there it was again, that terrible searing pain across his chest. Congested, he thought, I'm congested, it's the bronchitis.

A small voice in his head told him it wasn't the bronchitis, that it was something else, something worse. He wondered if he was having a heart attack; he couldn't be sure.

Edward lay very still, trying to breathe evenly, and eventually the chest pains abated, and finally they ceased altogether. His right side still hurt him, but as he remained in one position in the bed this, too, began to lessen. When he felt more comfortable at last he dozed, drifted off, soon fell fast asleep.

In his dreams he was with Lily Overton, his darling Lily, the woman he had loved so much when he was a very young man …

B
ess sat waiting in the library for her father's London physician, Dr Avery Ince. He was upstairs with her father, and had been there for quite a while, and now she was beginning to worry more than usual. Why was the visit lasting so long?

A moment or two later she heard his footsteps crossing the marble hall and hurried out of the library. ‘What do you think, Dr Ince?' she asked, her concern reflected in her dour expression.

‘Let's go into the library for a moment, Bess,' he said, guiding her into the room. He had known her since she was a child, and in the last two or three years had come to admire her; she did her father proud.

‘Is Papa any better?' Bess asked as she seated herself on the edge of a chair.

‘No, about the same,' the doctor answered, also sitting down. ‘But he seems rather tired this morning.'

‘Father wanted to see some of his friends yesterday afternoon, and they came over for tea,' Bess explained. ‘Perhaps it was a bit exhausting for him.' She sat back in the chair, not daring to tell the doctor about the evening. Her father had invited Alfredo Oliveri and Amos Finnister to come over last night with Uncle Will, and they had stayed a long time.

‘From now on no more visitors, Bess,' the doctor admonished. ‘I want your father to have complete and total rest. And please make sure he takes the expectorant I brought with me today. He has a lot of mucus in his chest, and I want to clear that up as fast as I can.' The doctor rose, picked up his bag and went towards the door.

Bess followed him, asking, ‘Are you going to come and see Father tomorrow, Dr Ince?'

‘I shall stop by in the late morning. Oh, and by the way, when is your mother returning from Rome?'

‘Tomorrow. Uncle Will telephoned Uncle Anthony who is with her, and he's made all the travel arrangements.'

‘Excellent.' He smiled at her warmly, and added in a reassuring way, ‘Don't look so worried, Bess, we'll soon have your father up and about. He'll be his old self in a few days. Make sure he drinks plenty of liquids, won't you?'

‘Yes, Dr Ince,' she said, seeing him out. Locking the front door, she raced across the large entrance hall and went into the morning room. Will was sitting there with Grace Rose and Jane Shaw. Jane's presence in the house had been made possible by the absence of Mallet. Today was Wednesday, the butler's day off.

‘What did Dr Ince say?' Jane asked anxiously as Bess came in. She looked weary, and was obviously worried.

‘That father's about the same, but very
tired
.' Bess shook her head. ‘That's no doubt because he had visitors yesterday, but Vicky and Fenella did cheer him up.'

Will said, ‘This is the worst I've seen your father, Bess.
He's never been quite this sick with bronchitis. He has to rest, and you must keep him in bed. He was talking to me about coming back to the office next week. However, I don't think that's wise.'

‘Neither do I,' Jane said, and stood up, looking even more anxious. ‘May I go and see him now?' She gave Bess a smile, and added, ‘I'm sure you realize that I feel a trifle … awkward … being here in this house.'

‘I understand. And of course you can see him. Come on!' Bess led the way upstairs.

Within minutes she returned to the library and sat down next to her half sister. ‘Father says he'd like you to go up in fifteen minutes, Grace Rose. He's looking forward to a visit from you.'

‘And I can't wait to see him.' Clearing her throat, Grace Rose now ventured, ‘Shouldn't Uncle Ned be in a hospital?' She looked from Will to Bess, her eyes full of questions.

‘We've both suggested it, and discussed it with Dr Ince,' Will answered. ‘Ned won't hear of it, won't budge from this house, and the doctor seems to think it's better to cater to him rather than put him in a private clinic, which I suggested.'

‘I understand.' Grace Rose sighed. ‘Dr Ince is very good; he's our doctor, too. I suppose he does know best.' Nonetheless she still believed her natural father
should
be in a hospital, no matter what Edward himself wanted. He was stubborn, and used to getting his own way; his condition troubled her.

‘The doctor asked me when Mother is coming home, and I told him tomorrow. That's correct, isn't it, Uncle Will?'

‘According to your uncle, Bess, they'll arrive Thursday afternoon.'

Bess gave Will a pointed look and said in a low voice, ‘I hope she's not going to upset
him, make him feel worse. She always brushes Papa up the wrong way.'

Will was silent, knowing that Ned's daughter spoke the truth.

Grace Rose did not say a word either, having witnessed at first hand Elizabeth's remarkably bad temper being directed at Uncle Ned. She simply stood, said softly, ‘I'll go up and see him now.'

Finally the house was quiet. Silent. All was peaceful again.

Bess's mother had arrived home this afternoon, a day earlier than expected, and for a short while chaos had reigned. She had stepped into the house haughtily, looking coolly beautiful and controlled, the Ice Queen, followed by Cecily, Young Edward, Little Ritchie, Miss Coleman, the new governess, and her maid, Elsie. In the rear guard, managing the luggage, were Uncle Anthony, Flon, the bootboy, and three of the household maids, as well as the new under-butler, Jackson.

Without so much as a word of greeting, her mother had swept passed her, gone up the stairs and into her father's room, closing the door behind her very firmly.

Bess was annoyed that her mother had not even acknowledged her. She had been left to organize the other children, and give Uncle Anthony all of the details of her father's illness, plus a report of his progress so far.

As she had poured her uncle a cup of tea, and made sure her two brothers and sister had glasses of milk and arrowroot biscuits, she had silently thanked God they had not arrived two hours earlier.

If that had happened they would have all been caught red-handed – she and her father, Uncle Will and Grace Rose – entertaining Jane Shaw, her father's mistress, to a lunch of smoked salmon sandwiches and white wine. That would have caused a genuine full-blown war … the war to end all wars
and their marriage. But Jane, always so proper, so careful and extremely well-mannered, had been somewhat nervous and ill at ease about being in the Berkeley Square house, and had made it a short lunch. How lucky that had been.

After half an hour her mother had come downstairs to the drawing room looking extremely put out, but she had finally greeted her, and kissed her on the cheek. What had seemed strange to Bess was that she had made no reference to her sick husband on the floor above. It was only when her brother Anthony had begun to question her that Elizabeth had thrown him an angry look and muttered, ‘We'll talk shortly, but not
now
.'

Fourteen-year-old Cecily had spoken out then, had insisted on going up to their father, and Young Edward and Little Ritchie had exclaimed that they, too, wished to see their father as well. And she had been told to take them to their father's bedroom at once.

Now, as she thought back to the afternoon, Bess realized what a supreme effort it had been for Papa to appear cheerful for his two sons, his male heirs, and for her and Cecily, also.

Usually the boys were rambunctious, liked to jump all over him and hug him, but this afternoon they had been suitably well behaved, and chastened, perhaps a little frightened even to see their father prone in bed and not looking all that robust either.

Both boys had been sweet and loving as had Cecily, and when her father had asked where the other girls were, she had thought that perhaps they should be here with the family, now that their mother had come home.

‘They're down in Kent with Nanny,' she had reminded him, and he had nodded, told her to have them brought up to London the next morning. And then he had smiled that irresistible smile of his – a smile like no other smile in the whole world.

Bess suddenly awakened with a start.

She sat up, looking around, and realized that she had fallen asleep in her father's chair behind the desk in the library. She glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it was already ten. Unexpectedly, she felt a rush of sudden fear, a strange uneasiness, and she left the library, flew upstairs and stood outside her father's bedroom door. All was quiet. After a moment, she opened it, and went in, crossed the floor. The bedside light was on, and he turned his head, becoming aware of her, looked directly at her. And she couldn't help thinking how very blue his eyes were tonight, bluer than she had ever seen them.

‘Hello, sweetheart.'

‘Papa, do you need anything?'

‘Will … get Will.'

‘Now, Papa?'

‘Yes.'

Bess went to the telephone in her father's dressing room, dialled the number of Will Hasling. When he himself answered, she said in a low voice, ‘Uncle Will, it's Bess. My father wants you to come. Now. Can you?'

‘I'll be there as fast as I can. Is something wrong?'

‘I – I don't know. I'll go downstairs and wait at the front door, so we don't … wake anybody up.'

‘I understand.

After she had replaced the receiver, she went back to her father's bed. ‘He's coming, Papa.'

Edward nodded his head, and then said, ‘Lock the door.' As he spoke he pointed to the dressing room.

‘To the adjoining bedroom?'

‘Yes.'

Bess ran into the dressing room and very quietly turned the key in the door which opened onto her mother's bedroom.

‘It's locked. I'm going downstairs, Father,' she said as she returned to his bedside. ‘To wait for Uncle Will at the front door. I don't want him to ring the doorbell, disturb the house.'

‘Good.'

J
ackson, the under-butler, had already locked up for the night, and Bess immediately set to work pulling back the bolts and unlocking the door. She then stood waiting, listening for the sound of Will Hasling.

She did not have to wait long.

Within fifteen minutes she heard a car drawing up, the sound of one of its doors closing, and muted voices, followed by footsteps.

Opening the door a crack, she came face to face with Will. He slipped inside, then closed and locked the door behind him.

‘The whole house is fast asleep. Father didn't want anyone to be disturbed. The boys and Cecily were especially tired after travelling so long,' Bess explained.

Will nodded. ‘Is he all right?'

‘He seems about the same, but very quiet. Mother and I sat with him for a short while after supper, and he was … withdrawn. I think he is worn out. At least then he was.
When I looked in on him a short while ago he was more like himself, and he asked me to telephone you to come over.'

‘I'm assuming that everything is all right between your parents? Nothing untoward happened when your mother got back, did it?'

‘Not that I know of, Uncle Will. Mother went to see father immediately she arrived. She didn't say anything to me when she came down for tea, but we did eventually talk later. She asked me a lot of questions and wanted to know everything. She was very upset about Father, and she was weeping. I made her go and take a rest before dinner, and she seemed a bit better when she joined us at seven.'

Will said nothing; he took hold of Bess's arm and the two of them crossed the hall, hurried up the grand staircase, and went into Edward's bedroom.

‘Here I am, Ned!' Will went over to the bed, looking for tell-tale evidence of a worsening condition, or signs of emotional upset. But there was nothing visible, nothing unusual about Ned's appearance tonight, much to Will's profound relief. Elizabeth could easily have upset Edward when she had arrived from Rome today.

‘Thanks for coming, Will,' Ned said. ‘Can you help me to sit up, do you think?'

Will did as he asked, propped him against the pillows, and then sat down in one of the chairs near the bed.

Bess, hovering near the doorway, cleared her throat. ‘I'll leave you to yourselves, Papa, and –'

‘No, no, you don't have to go, Bess.' Ned gestured to the seating area at the other side of the bedroom. ‘You can sit there if you wish, whilst I talk to Will.'

Bess did as her father suggested.

The room was quiet for several minutes, until Will broke the silence, saying, ‘Anthony let me know everyone was back safely from Rome, a day early.'

A faint smile touched Edward's mouth but only fleetingly. ‘Yes, and
we
almost got caught red-handed, didn't we? At least that was the way my Bess put it.'

Will laughed. ‘Only too true.'

‘Elizabeth has been very upset since she got back,' Edward confided. ‘And she has made a suggestion to me, which I would like to pass by you. She wants me to take three months off from Deravenels and go on one of the big ships to New York. She believes the trip will do me an enormous amount of good – sea air and all that. And to make the idea more palatable and appealing to me, she pointed out that we have offices in New York and the oil fields in Louisiana. What do you think?'

‘She's right for once, Ned. It's a splendid idea. You should do it.'

‘Will you run Deravenels for me whilst I'm away?'

‘Of course I will, you surely know that.'

‘When is Richard returning from Persia?'

‘Not until next week. Before he left he told me he was taking your advice and going on to Constantinople, after visiting the oil fields. As you know, he took Anne with him. He wanted her to have a holiday. She's not been at all well.'

Edward sighed. ‘She's never been a strong person. Like her late sister Isabel, Anne has a poor constitution. Strange, isn't it, that Neville's daughters would be such delicate little creatures, when their father was so robust and strong.'

‘It is, yes.'

‘I can't wait for tomorrow.' Edward's eyes lit up. ‘The girls are coming back from Kent with Nanny. I'm really looking forward to seeing my little beauties.' Edward looked across at Bess, sitting on the sofa near the fireplace. Turning to his best friend, he said softly, ‘My daughter has been wonderful. She hasn't stopped running after me, doing things for me, and for days now. I do think I have to take Ince's
advice and let him hire a nurse. It's all too much for Bess, don't you think?'

Will looked at Edward alertly, searchingly, and asked, ‘You think you need a nurse, do you, Ned?'

‘Not in the sense you mean, no. I'm not feeling any worse, Will. But I can't have my daughter acting as one, now can I?'

‘I suppose not. Do you want me to get in touch with Ince tomorrow morning, ask him to send someone to the house?'

‘If you would, please. There's something else –' Edward stopped, hesitated, lay staring at Will intently but saying nothing.

‘What is it?'

‘It's a question, actually. I never told you this, but last year I spoke to Finnister … about George's death. Grace Rose had alerted me to the fact that he was worried. She didn't know why. When I questioned him he said he and Oliveri were concerned, and felt guilty about George's death. He explained that they had told Vincent Martell about that old saying and Amos then confided that he and Oliveri thought that perhaps Martell had loosened those wedges under the barrels in the wine vault himself.'

‘He was suggesting that Martell created a situation to injure George?'

‘Yes, he did indeed suggest that.'

‘But Ned, that's murder!'

‘I know … and murder is something I've always worried about. I've asked myself a thousand times if George
was
murdered. It haunts me these nights when I can't sleep. Tell me, Will, what is your opinion? Was my brother murdered?'

Will thought that Finnister was more than likely correct, that Martell had indeed taken matters into his own hands, because of the foul things George had been saying about his brother. On the other hand, he had no proof and he did not
want to upset Edward further. He wanted to squash the idea. And so he lied, when he said, ‘I don't believe it's true, no, not at all. For one thing, why would Martell murder George? Yes, your brother slandered you in the worst way, constantly. But you know, Martell is pragmatic, he wouldn't pay much attention to George's words. He would simply ignore him, go about his own business.'

‘I'm not so sure …'

Will leaned closer to Edward and murmured sotto voce, ‘Believe
this
, Ned, hear my words. Martell would not risk wasting hundreds of barrels of fine Beaujolais wine. As I just said, he is very practical, and he loves the vineyard and everything about it.'

A faint smile struck Edward's mouth, and he nodded. After a moment, he said, ‘But enormous hatred can cloud a man's judgement.'

‘That's true. However, forget Martell. You must put George's death out of your mind, stop dwelling on it. Please, forget about Amos's suspicions for your own peace of mind, Ned.'

‘As always, you're right … You have never told me anything but the truth. I don't know what I would have done without you all these years, Will. I really don't.'

For the first time in days Edward Deravenel slept a dreamless sleep that night. No ghosts came to torment him; they left him alone. He rested peacefully.

The following morning he appeared to be much better, and even Dr Ince commented on his improved health. After examining him, the doctor said, ‘A nurse is waiting downstairs. Her name is Margery Arkright, and I've hired her to look after you at the request of Mr Hasling. May I now bring her upstairs to meet you, Mr Deravenel?'

‘Yes, and thank you, Ince. I'm sure Hasling explained that I've been relying on Bess far too much. It's not fair to her.'

‘He did explain, and you are correct: better to have a professional. Why burden your daughter? Excuse me for a moment.'

Within minutes the doctor had returned with Nurse Arkright, a pleasant-looking woman in her thirties. After they had been introduced, Edward said, ‘Perhaps you should make yourself at home in my adjoining dressing room, Nurse Arkright. There are chairs and a sofa in the room, and a desk. You'll be perfectly comfortable, and nearby if I need you.'

‘Thank you, Mr Deravenel,' she said, and followed the doctor who was walking towards the dressing room, beckoning her to follow.

That night Bess was unable to sleep. Several times she got up and went down to her father's bedroom on the floor below. Each time she looked in on him he appeared to be sleeping soundly, and Nurse Arkright would look up, put a finger to her lips, then mouthed silently, ‘All is well.'

Around three o'clock Bess ventured downstairs again, and once more the nurse reassured her that her father was sleeping soundly. Returning to her bedroom, she finally dozed off. Some time later, just as dawn was breaking and daylight was seeping in through the curtains, Bess awakened with a start. She sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, saw from the clock that it was almost five in the morning. As she struggled into her dressing gown and stepped into her slippers, she felt that strange but now familiar sense of unease invading her. Her father needed her, she was quite positive of that.

Rushing down the stairs, she saw Nurse Arkright coming out of her father's room, and she hissed, ‘Nurse! Is something wrong?'

The nurse beckoned to her, stood waiting next to Edward's door.

‘I was on my way to your room. Your father has been calling for you, Miss Bess. And for Lily. He suddenly woke up about fifteen minutes ago. He was feverish. I believe he's had a heart attack. A bad one. Come with me.'

Bess was terribly frightened when she saw her father's face. He had black smudges under his eyes and he was extremely pale, paler than she had ever seen him. How gaunt he was, and drawn around the mouth. Then she noticed the tremor in his hands resting on the sheet. She was stunned, and more afraid than ever.

Kneeling down at his bedside, she took hold of his hand and whispered, ‘Papa, it's me, Bess. I am here.'

He did not respond for a while and then he suddenly opened his eyes. She saw how sunken they were, as if they had been pushed back into his head, and they were red-rimmed. He did not speak, but he tightened his grasp on her hand.

Bess said again, ‘Papa, it's me. I am here to help you. It's Bess.'

‘I'm so sorry, so very, very sorry, Bess.'

Whatever had happened to him in the last few hours he was, nonetheless, lucid, and she knew he had recognized her. ‘There's no reason for you to be sorry, Papa,' she whispered, staring into his tired face. ‘We'll have you better very soon.'

‘Forgive me … I don't want to leave you …'

‘Please, Father, don't say that. There is nothing to forgive. And you can't leave us, we love you so much.' Tears were seeping out of her eyes and rolling down her face, splashing onto their hands clasped together. ‘Oh, Papa, please try, fight.'

‘I'm tired … the pain in my chest …'

‘Papa, oh Papa, whatever will we do without you?'

Suddenly he seemed to revive. He opened his eyes wider and looked into hers … brilliant blue impaling brilliant blue. And he said in a calm voice, very clearly, ‘You'll be fine, my Bess … look after them all for me …' He smiled at her, and it was that irresistible smile of his, like no other in the world, the smile she would never forget as long as she lived.

Bess laid her head on his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and held him close. Her grief knew no bounds.

A few minutes later she heard a faint noise and lifted her head. Her mother was standing at the entrance of the dressing room, staring at her. ‘Bess,' Elizabeth said in a trembling voice. And then again, ‘Bess …'