Heirs of Ravenscar

‘I then had a word with George –’ Edward went on.

‘And he agreed? Just like that?’ Richard interrupted snapping his fingers together, giving his brother a doubtful look.

‘He did,’ Edward answered. ‘Because I offered him an inducement that truly appealed to him. Actually, the offer was one George genuinely could not refuse.’

‘And what was it?’

‘Money. George’s favourite commodity. I said he would earn a large bonus from the company if he managed to make the deal with Ian MacDonald, a deal which has to favour Deravenels.’

‘And so you really want the MacDonald liquor business?’ Richard sat back.

Edward shrugged, and there was a moment’s pause before he replied, ‘Well, yes, I suppose I do.’

‘George could easily blow it, you know, if he mishandles the situation. He can be extremely volatile in negotiations.’

‘I know that, and if he does, he does. As far as I’m concerned, the deal can go either way and I won’t lose any sleep over it. Or the final outcome. The main thing is that I’ve got George out of my hair for the rest of this week, and also for Christmas.’

‘What do you mean by for Christmas?’ Richard asked, his voice puzzled.

‘Ian had invited me to stay on in Scotland for Christmas. He wanted me to take the family up to his country estate for the holidays. I’d refused politely, because I had invited a number of people to join us at Ravenscar. Then, when I spoke to Ian on Monday I asked him if he would invite George and his family, because I had had to cancel the Christmas festivities due to Young Edward’s illness.’

‘And MacDonald agreed?’

‘He did indeed. He is widowed, and his only child, his daughter, has three little girls … I think when he invited my lot he was hoping to create a happy holiday atmosphere at his house in the Lammermuir Hills. So yes, he welcomed the idea of George and his family. I can be very persuasive.’

‘We all know that, Ned.’ Richard hesitated, opened his mouth to say something, and then stopped abruptly.

Edward looked at him alertly, and asked, ‘What is it?’

‘I was going to say once again that you are putting the deal at risk.’

‘I’m fully aware of that.’ A smile spread across Edward’s face and he added, ‘The deal is not particularly crucial to Deravenels, Dick. I wouldn’t mind having Ian’s liquor company, because it flows beautifully into our wine business. However, the main consideration was to remove George for the moment.’

Richard nodded, and looked off into the distance for a split second before saying, sotto voce, ‘George has not gone off to Scotland so happily just because you’ve promised him a large bonus. He’s a glutton for power, and you’ve just given him a big dose of it … by making him your representative.’

‘Good point, Richard. But let’s move on, shall we? As I mentioned earlier, I’ve something to tell you – I’d like to be done with it before lunch is served, if you don’t mind.’

Richard merely nodded, wondering what was coming next.

‘Two years ago, after you and Anne were married, Nan Watkins gave you a gift. Am I not correct?’

‘You’re talking about the deeds to Neville’s house in Chelsea, aren’t you?’

‘It was never Neville’s house, Richard. It was always Nan’s house. Oh, he bought it right enough, and with his own money, but he actually bought it for Nan. He gifted it to her immediately, and the deeds are in her name, not his.’ When Richard didn’t speak, Ned asked, ‘Well, they are because I saw them myself. Nan showed them to me.’

Richard sighed. ‘Nan gave the deeds to Anne, and she merely glanced at them, and showed me Nan’s letter. Then she put the deeds away.’

‘So you never saw them?’

‘No. Why? Does it matter? After all, Nan gave us the house.’

‘No, she didn’t, Richard. I gave you the house.’

Startled, Richard exclaimed, ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just before you were married, actually quite a few months before, I went to see Nan Watkins. I told her I wanted to purchase the Chelsea house from her because I wanted to give it to you and Anne. At first she didn’t want to sell. She had actually had the same idea, and was going to give it to you both as a wedding present. However, I pointed out one thing to her, and it was this – that George, being the way he is, so dreadfully greedy, might object if she gave the house to you and Anne. I mentioned that he might actually try to get it away from you, by reminding her that Isabel and Anne are the joint heirs to Neville’s estate after her death. And, there-fore, Isabel was part owner of the house by rights.’

‘You’re correct, Ned! He could have done that! He’s certainly capable of it, devious enough. And avaricious, as you say. So how did you persuade her to sell it to you?’ Richard asked swiftly, filled with curiosity.

‘I managed to convince Nan. As I reminded her, my knowledge of George is far greater than anyone else’s in this entire world. I also explained that I would buy the house for you and Anne, so that George could never get his hands on it, and that she could still give it to you, as if it were her present to you both.’

‘That was a nice gesture, Ned, and obviously she accepted. But I wonder why? Why didn’t she tell us the truth at the time? That would have been more honest, wouldn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid I’m guilty again. I convinced her to say she was giving you the house, and to hand you the deeds Neville had presented to her years ago, so that everything would appear quite normal to you. And, of course, to George. In order to completely forestall George, in case he tried to make any trouble for you and Anne later, I had Nan’s solicitors and mine draw up additional documents – a bill of sale, new deeds in my name, and a third legal document which gifts the house to you outright.’

‘Do you mean you have given it to us, Anne and me, or actually to me?’

‘Only to you, Richard. I couldn’t take any chances. I didn’t want Anne’s name on any legal documents. In other words, I bought the house from Nan Watkins, and then, as the new legal owner, I gave it to a third party. All very legal. Essentially, what it did do was cut Anne and Isabel out, because I had bought it from their mother, who had every right to sell, because it was hers, not part of Neville’s estate.’

For a moment Richard sat there in silence, looking slightly stunned.

Smiling, Edward took the thin folder he had removed from the safe, and handed it to Richard. ‘Here are the deeds to your house. They would have always been secure with me, but I decided you ought to have them. After all, the house is yours.’

‘You didn’t give them to me before because you were protecting Nan, weren’t you?’

‘I suppose so … I didn’t want to take the credit away from her. In a sense, she was only the innocent bystander, and she had wanted to give you the house anyway.’

Richard had taken the folder and he held it tightly for a moment, looking at it. But he did not open it. He put it on the floor next to his chair and then sat gazing at his brother, at a loss for words. Finally, he said softly, ‘Thank you, Ned. You’re the best brother any man could have.’

‘And so are you, Little Fish: well trusted and well loved.’

SIX (#)

Jane Shaw sat at her dressing table in the bedroom of her charming house in Hyde Park Gardens.

Leaning forward, she peered at herself in the antique Victorian mirror, brought a hand to her face, touching the fine wrinkles around her eyes with one finger. Crow’s feet they were called. What an ugly name, she thought and sighed. There were also tiny lines above her top lip, hardly visible, but they were there, much to her dismay. And the lip rouge ran into those lines sometimes, she had begun to notice. Her jaw was not as taut as it had once been either, and she knew her neck had begun to sag, only slightly, but, nonetheless, this was visible.

Sitting back in the chair, trying to relax, Jane looked at herself again in a more objective way, and at once she was reassured that she was still a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who was, very simply, growing older.

Ten years.

Not many years … not really. In 1907 ten years had not seemed much at all. Even in 1910 they were still a mere nothing in her mind. But today, in December of 1918, those ten years had assumed enormous proportions all of a sudden.

She was now forty-three.

Edward Deravenel was thirty-three.

She was ten years older than he was, and whilst this had not seemed too big an age difference between them before, it did now … because it was beginning to show.