Heirs of Ravenscar

‘I did volunteer to take it off.’

‘I know, but I didn’t want you to … You know … I like to make love to women wearing only jewels and nothing else.’

‘Women!’ she exclaimed. ‘Now what other women wearing only jewels do you make love to, Edward Deravenel? Tell me that.’

‘Only you my sweet, only you,’ he answered swiftly, telling her the absolute truth.

Jane was wise enough to make no further comment, even though she did believe him. She was well aware he was faithful to her. The whole world knew that, including his wife. She wondered if this troubled Elizabeth. Didn’t one other woman in a married man’s life pose a threat? Whereas many women in a married man’s life could be so easily dismissed. She let these thoughts slide away from her, and instead asked, ‘By the way, why did you send George off to Scotland? You never did say.’

‘I wanted to get him out of my hair. He’d invited himself for Christmas at Ravenscar, and to please my mother I’d acquiesced. And then when I cancelled our Christmas festivities, told the guests they could not come, he became very obstreperous. Because Young Edward was ill I’d decided to cancel my trip to Scotland. It then occurred to me that I could get rid of George by sending him up to Edinburgh to negotiate the deal with Ian MacDonald. The deal for his liquor business. Killing two birds with one stone, really.’

‘Isn’t that a bit dangerous?’ she asked, pushing herself up on the pillows. ‘Allowing him to be the voice of Deravenels?’

Edward looked at her intently. ‘He can be a bit volatile, I know that, even in business discussions. But I promised him a large bonus if he pulls it off to my satisfaction. He’ll be careful how he handles himself because of the prospect of money.’

‘I hope he doesn’t make a mess of it,’ she murmured, thinking out loud.

‘Funny thing is, Jane, Richard said the same thing to me earlier today,’ Ned said. ‘If it doesn’t work, I won’t care too much, you know. George is strange at times, but more of a nuisance I’d say than anything else.’

‘No, he’s not a nuisance, Ned. He’s a threat.’

‘Why do you say that?’ he asked, frowning to himself. Will Hasling had made the same comment several times in the last few weeks.

Jane answered in a thoughtful voice, ‘I think he’s in competition with you. I’ve always believed that George sort of … well, fancies himself, thinks he can be you, thinks he’s as good as you, as clever as you, and he’s not. Everyone knows how brilliant you are.’

‘It was Neville who put those ideas in his head, a long time ago. Obviously they’ve taken hold. Now that the War is over perhaps I can ship George off somewhere. To America, perhaps.’

Jane laughed. ‘On a permanent basis, of course. Don’t you think that would be a good idea?’

‘Yes. And I’ve got an even better idea,’ he murmured, leaning towards her, kissing her fully on the mouth, and moving even closer. ‘I want to make love to you again, before we go down to dinner.’

‘What about the necklace –’

‘To hell with the bloody necklace,’ he interrupted, smiling at her. ‘I don’t care if I do get a few scratches as long as I can have you in my arms. You, Jane, my one true love.’

‘Oh Ned –’

He cut off the rest of the sentence by placing his mouth firmly on hers.

SEVEN (#)

Amos Finnister sat in his office at Deravenels on the Strand, giving Will Hasling his entire attention. There was an expression of concern on his face as he listened to the other man.

‘And so,’ Will continued, ‘I would appreciate it if you could do a bit of digging, Amos. In your usual discreet fashion.’

Nodding, Amos asked, ‘Do you think Mr George has fallen in with a bad lot? Is that it, Mr Hasling?’

‘Yes. And a dangerous lot, at that. The drinking, the whoring are bad enough, well that’s George’s nature, I’m afraid: he’s always been a bit of a libertine. It’s the drugs that worry me, and the gambling. He’s losing a lot of money on a regular basis, a great deal, in fact. Very troublesome.’

‘If I might ask, how did you find this out?’ Amos gazed at Will steadily.

‘Someone came to me, warned me.’ Will nodded, and murmured, ‘Thank God.’

‘I’m assuming it’s someone you can trust, Mr H?’

‘It is, actually, Amos, and there’s no good reason why you shouldn’t know. It came from one of my brothers – Howard. When he was at Eton he became extremely close to a boy called Kim Rowe-Leggett, and, in the way of old Etonians, they’ve stayed close friends over the years. Rowe-Leggett is a stockbroker in the City these days, quite well-known, and very successful. Anyway, he likes the occasional flutter on the ponies, and he sometimes gambles, on a small scale, at one of the newer London gambling clubs. He’s a member of Starks, Julian Stark’s place, another old Etonian. To get to the point, my brother told me that according to Kim Rowe-Leggett the gossip about George is rampant. Naturally I’m perturbed. Not only about his gambling losses, but the drugs.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ Amos shook his head. ‘Mr George is a great worry to Mr Deravenel, as you well know. And more than once in the last few weeks he’s asked me to keep an eye on him. You know what I mean … he wants me to keep track of what his brother does in his spare time, but in a … casual way, unobtrusively, shall we say?’

Will rubbed his mouth with his hand, frowning. ‘I wonder if Mr Edward has heard any of the gossip about Mr George? Has he said anything to you?’

‘Not really. When he does express concern it’s in a … well, a mild way. He doesn’t get excited, or anything like that. And he’s said nothing about gambling or drugs.’

‘It’s bound to get back to him sooner rather than later, especially if there is a demand for payment of the gambling debts. Julian Stark might come to Mr Deravenel if he doesn’t get satisfaction from George.’ Will sighed. ‘I have to tell him, Amos. I really do. He and I have never had any secrets from each other in all the years we’ve worked together here at Deravenels, and even before that, when we were at Oxford.’

Amos sat back in his desk chair and stared off into the distance, an odd look settling on his face.

Will Hasling noticed this immediately, and asked, ‘What is it, Amos? You’re looking peculiar.’

‘Can it wait until after Christmas? What I mean is, Mr Edward is a bit worried at the moment, as you well know, about his little boy. And it is the holiday season … the annual lunch tomorrow and then the dinner at your sister’s tomorrow evening.’

‘I see what you mean.’ Will became reflective for a moment or two, weighing the odds before remarking, ‘I understand exactly what you’re saying, but we all know that he detests surprises. If the gossip comes to him from someone else, he’s going to be furious with me for not telling him, preparing him in advance.’

Sitting up straighter in the chair, Amos agreed, exclaiming, ‘A point well taken. I reckon you will have to have a word with him. To quote my late father, forewarned is forearmed.’ Leaning forward across the desk, Amos added quietly, ‘Mr Richard said to me only last week that he believed his brother George was not suitable for Deravenels and shouldn’t be given any power in the company. That he had very poor judgement.’

Will was not at all surprised by this confidence. He had long been aware that there was bad blood between the two brothers. Richard was devoted and loyal to Ned, and would lay down his life for him, but he loathed George.

Will had known Richard since his childhood, and he loved him, admired him. He was of good character; a stickler for discipline and a bit straightlaced. He was also very hard working, talented in business, and Edward was especially pleased that he had settled in so well at Deravenels. Will knew that.

Of late Richard had become unusually critical of George. Will recognized that Richard had suffered because of George who had tried to block his marriage to Anne Watkins in the meanest way. Will stifled a sigh. He had never quite understood why Ned had not intervened sooner, rectified the situation, not allowed it to drag on.

Rousing himself from his thoughts, realizing Amos was waiting, Will continued. ‘Do you think Richard knows any bad gossip about George? Has he mentioned anything to you?’

‘No, he hasn’t. However, he might have heard something. Last week, out of the blue, he did make a remark – he said his brother was venal.’

‘He certainly hit the nail on the head.’

‘In my opinion George Deravenel is a dyed-in-the-wool trouble maker.’

Will gave Amos a long look, murmured, ‘He’s also … dangerous.’

‘Oh, I know that. Ever since he became entangled with Neville Watkins, and his machinations all those years ago, I’ve been suspicious of him. To tell you the truth, I’ve not trusted him since then.’

‘And neither have I.’ Will Hasling rose, walked towards the door, explaining, ‘I must get off, Amos, my wife is waiting for me at the Savoy Hotel. We’re going to the Savoy Theatre tonight.’

‘I understand. Have a pleasant evening, Mr H.’

Will swung around when he reached the door, and stared hard at Amos. ‘I will have to speak to Mr Edward as soon as possible. I must inform him about everything, prepare him. And please do a bit of digging, won’t you? Who knows what you’ll turn up.’