Heirs of Ravenscar (38 page)

‘He's dead,' Bess whispered in a hoarse voice full of tears. ‘My father is dead.'

Elizabeth stepped forward, walking unsteadily towards the bed. Her face was frozen with fear, her eyes filled with tears.

It was Friday the ninth of April, 1926. Edward Deravenel had died of a massive heart attack just nineteen days before his forty-first birthday on April twenty-eighth.

Three sons she had buried here at Ravenscar. First Edmund, then George, and now Edward.

It was Tuesday the thirteenth day of April in the year of Our Lord 1926, and as she watched
his coffin being lowered into his grave Cecily Deravenel felt as though her heart was
breaking yet again. Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked as she stood there engulfed by
sorrow.

Her darling Ned was gone from her forever. She had only one son left, her youngest child, Richard. He was absent
today, delayed on the Continent by his wife's sudden illness. How devastated Richard must be. He had so adored his eldest brother.

Now Cecily wished, and with all her heart, that she had spoken to Ned more openly, had made sure he truly understood that she did not blame him for George's death. No one was to blame, except perhaps George himself. Regrettably she had said nothing to Ned, and so he had gone to his grave without knowing how she truly felt.

Cecily lifted her head, her eyes settling on Ned's widow, Elizabeth: pale as death, her great beauty dimmed by her pain and sadness. Bright sunlight broke through the leaden clouds and suddenly the children's red-gold curls were like burnished halos around their innocent young faces. Cecily, Anne, Katharine, Bridget, Young Edward and Little Ritchie were clustered together looking bewildered, and next to them were Bess and Grace Rose, standing guard over them like sentinels, endeavouring to control their own grief.

Cecily heard a muffled sob, turned to Will Hasling, took hold of his arm affectionately; she had always thought of him as another son, and wished to comfort him. He, too, was burdened down with sorrow. Close to him were Mr Finnister and Mr Oliveri; and like Will's, their faces were wet with tears. When grown men wept so openly and without a hint of shame, the depth of their love showed, and she knew how much they had cared for her son.

‘Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' Father O'Connor was intoning, and as handfuls of earth
clattered down onto Ned's coffin she felt her heart tightening; she swayed slightly, and
then Will's arm went around her, supported her. Looking up at him, Cecily whispered, ‘The
children, those little children – they will be lost without Ned.'

‘I shall look after them,' Will promised softly, bending his head to hers. And Cecily was comforted, knowing that indeed
he would. She had always trusted Will. Yes, everything would eventually be alright.

But she was wrong. Trouble, the likes of which the Deravenels had never known before, was about to begin.

‘W
hat in God's name do you think you're doing, Richard?' Will Hasling asked, keeping his voice steady, controlled, even though he was furious. He stared at Edward's brother, now the new head of the company.

Richard, sitting behind Edward's old desk in his late brother's office, looked up and returned Will's stare. ‘I'm not sure what you're referring to, Will.'

Will stood in the doorway which linked his office to Richard's, put in twenty-one years ago by Edward Deravenel, so that he and Will had easy access to each other.

Now stepping forward, walking towards Richard's desk, Will said, ‘I just heard you've sacked Anthony Wyland, that he's actually already gone.' His eyes narrowed, and he asked, ‘
Why
?'

‘As the head of this company I don't owe anyone an explanation, not even
you
. However, you've heard the old saying, haven't you? A new broom sweeps clean.'

‘And that's what you're doing, is it? Sweeping clean, getting rid of a talented executive who's a decent, honest and loyal man, who's worked for this company for years, and done a lot of good things for it. I must admit I'm startled, to say the least.'

‘Don't be startled, Will,' Richard shot back in a cold voice. ‘Instead, get used to changes. There are going to be a lot around here, and sooner than you might think.'

‘Don't start tampering with Deravenels, Richard!' Will exclaimed. ‘Your brother set it up in an extraordinary way. It runs smoothly, efficiently and very successfully the way it is. Ned made sure of that. Leave things the way they are, otherwise you might regret it.'

‘Are you threatening me?' Richard straightened in his chair, his face tense.

Recoiling slightly, taken aback by the icy stare, imperious tone and the question itself, Will shook his head. ‘Don't be ridiculous, Dick. Of course I'm not threatening you. I'm simply advising you.'

‘I don't need your advice. I know what I'm doing. I've worked for this company for years, or have you forgotten that?'

‘No, I certainly haven't. Nor have I forgotten that you have always run the Northern division of Deravenels. You haven't been running it worldwide, and that's a different thing entirely.'

‘Are you suggesting I'm not capable of being the chief executive worldwide?'

‘Certainly not! Ned always trusted you, spoke highly of you, and your abilities. That's why he named you to run Deravenels until his eldest son is old enough to take over and take charge. Ned added that codicil to his Last Will and Testament, and that's good enough for me. Look, let's get back to Anthony … I just don't understand why you have let such an important executive go.'

‘I let him go because he's a Wyland, and I've never trusted them. In fact, I never understood why my brother gave him a job in the first place.' Richard let out a short, dry laugh. ‘I shouldn't say that. I
do
know. He was forced to give Wyland a job because of that bitch of a wife of his. Elizabeth pushed Ned into it. There's no other explanation.'

‘I don't really know anything about that. I only know that Wyland has been running the financial and banking divisions of the company brilliantly. Won't you reconsider your decision?'

‘No, I won't, why should I? Just because you want me to reinstate him. Good God, I'm surprised at you, Will. I thought you hated the Wylands as much as we all have all these years. Gone over to their side, have you?'

‘I didn't know they had a side, actually,' Will answered, holding himself in check. ‘As for Anthony, he's a bloody good chap, truly reliable and honourable. You should trust him. Ned did.'

‘More fool he. No, I won't change my mind.'

Will shook his head, worry settling on his face. ‘I don't know who you'll find to replace him, I really don't.'

‘I already have,' Richard announced, a small smile flashing.

Taken aback though he was, Will nevertheless kept his face neutral and still. ‘Who are you going to appoint?'

‘Alan Ramsey – and he's already been appointed. Actually, Will, he's sitting in Wyland's old office at this very moment. I move quickly, once I've made up my mind.'

‘So I see.' Will nodded, and added, ‘Ramsey's a good man.'

‘You don't have to tell me that. He's been one of my best friends since childhood. I'd trust him with my life.'

Will half turned, took several steps towards the door.

Richard said, ‘There's one other thing, Will.'

‘Yes?' Will halted, turned, stared at Richard.

‘I would like to know why you arranged Ned's funeral
before I got back from Constantinople? My God, my brother was dead and buried within only a few days. I think it should have been delayed until I was here in England.'

‘It had nothing to do with me, I can assure you of that.' Will came back into the room, stood in front of the desk, and continued quietly, ‘I suggest you speak to your mother about Ned's funeral. In fact, it would
behove
you to do so, and she will probably tell you that she was annoyed with you because you didn't make it back sooner. She couldn't understand why it took you so long. That is what she said to Kathleen. My wife also told me that your mother was extremely put out with all of us, Ned's wife included, because no one saw fit to make sure Ned was given Extreme Unction. She thought it was appalling that no one had thought to bring a priest to Ned's bedside.'

‘And I'd like to know why one wasn't brought to him as well?'

‘Because none of us knew he was dying, that's why! Can you imagine how enraged Edward Deravenel would have been if one of us had done that? Especially since Dr Ince was not alarmed, and thought he was on the mend. Only Ned knew the true state of his health, and he kept the truth from us all.'

‘I'm glad at least that he's buried in the family cemetery at Ravenscar.'

‘Where else would he be buried? But as I said, Richard, your mother took over, she was in charge of everything. If you have any bones to pick about Ned's burial, then I think you ought to go to her.'

‘Thanks for that tip,' Richard responded, sounding sarcastic.

Will decided to make no other comments, glanced at his watch, and exclaimed, ‘I'm running late. I'd best be off. And I'll be happy to meet Alan Ramsey whenever you wish.'

‘I'll arrange it.'

Will nodded, went back into his own office and closed the door.

He stood leaning against it, letting out a deep breath. He was angry and shaking. Jumped-up young pup, he thought. Richard is exactly the way Finnister said he is: arrogant, self-satisfied, and a know-it-all to boot. He's hungry for power, ambitious beyond belief. Will shivered, even though it was a warm June day. Someone just walked over my grave, he thought, and felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck.

Walking across to his desk, Will picked up the phone and dialled Oliveri's extension. When Oliveri answered, Will said softly, ‘If you have a lunch date you must cancel it immediately. I have to see you, and also Finnister. I'll step by his office, and then I'll leave the building with him. You leave ten minutes later.'

‘What's wrong?' Alfredo asked worriedly.

‘I will have to tell you when I see you.'

‘Shall I book us a table at the Savoy? Or do you prefer Rules?'

‘Neither. And don't suggest the Ritz either.'

‘How about White's, Will?'

‘Good idea. I'll book a table for one o'clock.' Will hung up and sat back in his chair. Richard was not a member of White's and therefore was unable to go there. He could only be taken and that was most unlikely. Even Ned had never taken him there. Richard hated White's.

Will's eyes swept across his desk: no urgent papers, nothing to deal with that was pressing. He left, went down the corridor to Finnister's office, knocked and walked in.

‘Amos, I want you to come with me immediately. I'm taking you to White's for lunch with Oliveri, and if you have a lunch appointment you must cancel it.'

‘
Trouble
,' Finnister stated and stood up, adding, ‘And I don't have a lunch date.'

‘Come on then, let's go.'

The two men left the building and went out into the Strand. It was truly hot, especially for June in England, and Will said, ‘Let's get a taxi,' and hailed one passing by.

When they were settled and heading towards Will's club, Will turned to Amos, and asked, ‘Why did you suspect trouble the moment I asked you to lunch?'

‘Because I've been expecting it: your manner, the sudden urgency. I also heard about Anthony Wyland being sacked. And I know our new boss very well, since his childhood. I have him pegged, always have. He's not the man his brother was … not by a long shot. You know what they say … still waters run deep and the devil's at the bottom.'

Anthony Wyland sat with his sister Elizabeth in the drawing room of the Berkeley Square house. He put his hand out, let it rest on her arm, said gently, ‘Don't be angry, and don't be upset. I can fend for myself, Lizzie.'

‘But what he's done is humiliating, Anthony. I'm just startled that
you
are not angrier than you are.'

‘I was enraged, of course I was. But there was nothing I could do. He chucked me out, politely, coldly, and told me to leave the building at once. So I packed up my desk and left by the end of the afternoon. Yesterday.'

‘What will you do?' she asked, frowning, her eyes filled with worry.

‘Get another job. Or perhaps not. I don't have to rush into something I don't like. I've made a lot of money –'

‘I don't understand. I thought you were a director of Deravenels.'

‘I am, or rather I
was
. I had to resign as a director. He demanded it.'

‘I'm so sorry … Ned would turn in his grave if he knew.'

‘He would that.'

‘What shall I do about the summer problem?'

Anthony shook his head. ‘I honestly don't know. Perhaps Will can advise you about that.'

‘I can't go to Will … We've never liked each other.'

‘Perhaps you ought to let Bess explain the situation. She's always been very close to Will. And he loves her like an uncle, as I love her.'

‘What a good idea! I knew you'd have a solution to my dilemma.' The tension in her face eased a little, and her eyes cleared. She sat back in the chair. ‘Thank you for coming to lunch. I do get lonely.'

‘You don't have to be …' He grinned at her, assuming a demeanour that did not reflect his true feelings. ‘I'm probably going to have lots of time on my hands.'