Being Elizabeth

‘Then let me take you to lunch to celebrate your return to Deravenels and your new job as the boss lady.’

Many heads turned as they walked through the lobby of the Savoy Hotel on their way to the restaurant. They were both good looking, and Elizabeth was almost as tall as Robert. They made a handsome, elegant couple, and Elizabeth was particularly arresting with her startlingly white skin and auburn hair. She had chosen to wear a tailored, purple wool coat and dress that showed off her slender figure to perfection, while the purple-and-green silk scarf was a dashing addition to the outfit.

Robert Dunley was well aware of the swathe they cut as they walked through the restaurant. They usually did. They both loved fashionable clothes, and he was something of a peacock. As for Elizabeth, she had always had style and a certain flair, wore unique outfits by Joseph, Versace, and Cavalli in strong colours with great aplomb. In fact, they both had enormous self-confidence and were sure of themselves when it came to their taste in clothing.

After sitting down at a window table overlooking the Thames and ordering two glasses of champagne, Robert took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘Aren’t you glad we went to the office?’

Elizabeth agreed. ‘Yes, I am, you were absolutely right, but then you usually are. Nobody understands me like you do, Robin darling. I realize how much I was dreading going there tomorrow, and your little preview has made me feel more at ease. And thank you again for the work you did on Father’s office. I hated what Mary had created, that abysmal steel-and-glass trap, and couldn’t bear the thought of using it.’

‘I shudder when I think of it, and actually I enjoyed dumping her stuff, bringing back all those lovely old pieces from the storage unit downstairs. It was not only fun but a labour of love,’ Robert reassured her.

At this moment the waiter arrived with their flutes of champagne, and after toasting each other Elizabeth asked, ‘What do you think I ought to do with the Chelsea house?’

‘Do you want to live there?’ Robert asked.

‘I don’t know … I don’t think so. But now, looking out at the river flowing by, I can’t help thinking how beautiful the Thames is this morning, especially in the brilliant sunshine. Don’t forget, the house runs right down to the river’s edge.’

‘It’s an important old house architecturally, and you would get rather a lot for it, I’m certain, but don’t make any hasty decisions. You might well enjoy living there, but you don’t have to decide right now, do you?’

‘No, I don’t, and anyway, I’ll know what condition it’s in from Kat. She’s going to give it a thorough looking over. You see, she’s taking charge of my properties.’ Elizabeth grinned at him, and added, ‘Kat accepted my offer to be my steward. I know it’s a very old-fashioned job description, but that’s exactly what she’ll be doing – the work a steward used to do.’

‘And Kat will do a marvellous job! She’s one of the most efficient people I know.’ He sat back, frowned, and asked, ‘What were you telling me about Blanche Parrell earlier?’

‘Blanche is, at this very moment, throwing all of my clothes away, at least that’s what she was doing earlier, before I left this morning. On Kat’s advice, she’s taken control of my wardrobe, and so far the pile for Oxfam is enormous. It seems she’s about to select a lot of new clothes for me. She wants me to look the part for my new job.’

‘And why not?’ Robert murmured, then reaching into his pocket he took out a folded piece of paper, said quietly, ‘I have something for you, something you should see. It is a bit lethal, but I don’t want you to be upset –’

‘What is it?’ she cut in, her brows puckering together. His words of warning and his solemn expression had telegraphed that the paper was not only problematic but also of vital importance to her.

‘Read it for yourself,’ Robert said, ‘and we’ll discuss, then we’ll order lunch.’ He handed her the piece of paper.

Elizabeth saw immediately that it was a bank transfer, and it was signed by Mary Turner Alvarez. Her sister, three years earlier, had transferred fifty million euros to her new husband in Madrid, Philip Alvarez. Shocked, she stared at the paper, reading it again. A furious anger swept over her, and her hand shook as she clutched the paper. She exclaimed in a low but angry tone, ‘I can’t believe this! She must have been insane, besotted or brainwashed by him.’

‘All of those things, perhaps,’ Robert replied.

A terrible thought struck Elizabeth, and she asked in a hoarse whisper, ‘Do you think this was Deravenel money or her own?’

‘I’m not sure. I can’t really tell from the bank transfer.’

‘Cecil told me she invested seventy-five million euros in Philip’s real estate development schemes. Did you know that?’

‘I’d heard rumours that she had been overly generous, but I didn’t know the amount.’

‘Please don’t let Cecil know I’ve told you that.’

‘I won’t,’ Robert promised.

Elizabeth asked, ‘How did you get this bank transfer?’

‘Never mind.’

‘Surely you can tell me, Robin.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t know … well, let’s just say this … I’ve worked at Deravenels for years, my father and grandfather also worked there. And guess what … people have a bad habit of not changing locks.’

‘What you’re saying is that you have a great many keys?’ Elizabeth stared at him knowingly.

‘You’ve got it.’

‘This transfer is obviously a copy, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. The original is where it should be. You can keep it if you want, but don’t take it to the office. Lock it up in your safe at home. I actually came across it quite by accident, and wanted you to have it … Forewarned is forearmed. God knows what you’re going to find when you start digging, but I want you to be ahead of the game, Elizabeth.’

‘I have to tell Cecil. I’m absolutely certain the fifty million came from her personal bank account.’

‘Of course. He has to know,’ Robert answered. He eyed her closely, and murmured, ‘You’re not as upset as I thought you would be.’

‘I’m bloody furious, if you want the truth! However, Cecil’s news last week forced me to recognize that the seventy-five million euros she gave to Philip might well be just the tip of the iceberg.’

Robin has done good by me yet again. Persuading me to go toDeravenels was an inspired idea on his part. I have lost myfear of the place. I had been dreading going back after a year’sabsence, because it holds so many memories for me, both goodand bad. The bad ones are all to do with Mary and her treatmentof me. Once she took over she became a tyrant in so manyways, not the least with me. She was suspicious and treacherous,and endeavoured to nullify my existence. Finally shebanished me.

I really missed my job, but there was nothing I could do. Shewas managing director and I had been dismissed. I took myselfoff to Ravenscar, and although she hated that house and nevercame there, I remained fearful of her mood-swings and tempertantrums. Long-distance enemy she might be, but an enemynonetheless, and I never knew when she might do somethingnasty to me.

The good memories are to do with my father, and when Isaw his office looking exactly the way it had when he occupiedit, I was happy. I had never quite understood why Mary hadtorn it apart, put the valuable antiques in the storage unit, andfilled it with hard-edged modern furniture. Unless it was a wayof obliterating our father in her mind. She had always harboureda grudge against him because he had discarded her mother; deepdown, I don’t think she ever forgave him for that, although shewas devious enough to put up a good front.

Seeing the room looking the way it had for centuries was athrill for me, and happy memories washed over me. Once myfather had brought me back into his life, when I was nine, heoften took me to the office with him in the mornings. I wouldsit on the Chesterfield and read books about our vineyards inFrance, diamond mines in India, and gold mines in Africa. Hefilled my head with information about our ancient tradingcompany before taking me to lunch at the Savoy or Rules. AsI grew older, he became impressed with my intelligence andknowledge, and I think that’s when Mary grew more jealousthan ever of me. She hated him when he praised me; she hatedme because I looked like a miniature Harry Turner with his redhair and height and Turner looks. Father often told me I hadthe thin, wiry build of my grandfather Henry Turner, theWelshman who had married Bess Deravenel and taken over asthe head of Deravenels. And it was true, I did, and I was proudof that.

My father died when I was twelve, but I’d had those wonderfulfew years with him and my half-brother Edward, and lookingback, those years were the happiest of my childhood. I was doingwell in the classroom, my father was proud of me, and ofEdward. He and I spent a great deal of time together and wereclose and loving. Then there was my new stepmother, CatherineParker, a woman who embraced us, my father’s children, andshe was loving, kind and mothering to all of us, including Mary.

My father had hurt my feelings when I was a little girl, buthe made up for his bad behaviour when I was older. I learneda lot from him, and I suppose he became my role model in thelatter part of his life. He was a brilliant man, and he ranDeravenels far better than his father had, whom he sometimescalled ‘the caretaker’. He once told me his father had been tightwith money, and that he had never allowed his wife Bess toparticipate in anything to do with Deravenels. She was actuallythe heiress, through her father Edward, and my father thoughtit was wrong of his father to exclude her. He adored his mother,who brought him up with his younger sister Mary. They spenta lot of time together at Ravenscar and that’s why he loved itso much, I suppose. His mother was the biggest influence onhis life, and it was she who had filled his head with Deravenelfamily lore and legend.

Father passed that onto me, and tomorrow I shall go toDeravenels and take my rightful place as the head of the company.I am my father’s heir. It is my right.

‘Elizabeth, can you come and have a look at the clothes, please?’ Blanche Parrell asked in her lilting Welsh voice, pushing open the door of the study, poking her head around it.

‘Yes, right away,’ Elizabeth answered. She was sitting in a chair near the fire, thinking about her father, but she roused herself at once and jumped to her feet.

‘Purple really does suit you,’ Blanche said as an aside, and hurried across the foyer.

‘I think so, too.’ Elizabeth followed the lovely Welshwoman, thinking how well Blanche looked today with her pink cheeks, sleek black hair pulled back in a twist, and sparkling black eyes. There was always a warm smile on her face, and she aimed to please at all times. Elizabeth had loved Blanche since she was a child, appreciated her warm and tender nature, not to mention her talent with clothes, and thought of her as one of the family.

‘I know this looks a mess,’ Blanche announced, sounding apologetic as they entered the bedroom. ‘But actually I do know where everything goes.’

‘I’d be surprised if you didn’t!’ Elizabeth glanced across at the set of closets lined up along one wall. To her surprise there were still a lot of clothes hanging there, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh good, I guess we’re keeping those!’

‘Yes, we are. I hate to get rid of really good things, not to mention the haute couture pieces, and those are lovely outfits.’

Indicating several piles of clothes on the floor, Blanche continued: ‘All of that stuff can go to Oxfam and other charities with thrift shops, whilst the things on the bed need altering … skirt lengths are wrong, some jackets might be a bit too big or too small, and those items on the chair are for the dry cleaners.’