The Ravenscar Dynasty (41 page)

John waited for a moment or two, expecting her to make some sort of comment, but she did not. He took a deep breath, and jumped in with both feet. ‘Please tell me we didn't have anything to do with this, Margot, that you did not take matters into your hands.'

‘Oh no,
chéri
, I did not. Why would I?'

‘You
were
behind the attack on Edward Deravenel.'

‘This woman Lily Overton…what did she mean to me?
Rien
…nothing. I think the suggestion that it was something created is ridiculous. Who can make a horse become crazed? Now I ask you to explain that to me. C'est
pas possible
.'

John gaped at her, rendered speechless for a moment. He had not said a word about a horse going berserk, in fact he had not given any details at all. Leaning forward, he picked up his glass, gulped down the last of the wine.

It took him a moment or two, but eventually he calmed himself, stilled the violent machinations revolving in his mind. He must not even
think
that they were somehow involved.

Rising, he forced a smile onto his face, offered her his hand.

She took it.

He gently pulled her to her feet.

Margot said, ‘I will walk with you to the stables, to
your carriage. I'm so glad you came.' She tucked her arm through his, and went on, ‘I am so bored here in Ascot…and I miss you.'

He made no response, merely nodded. He was too perturbed to say even a single word to her.

‘Do you think you can remember
everything
?' Neville Watkins asked quietly, looking across the small bridge table at Edward.

‘Oh yes, Neville. Please be assured of that. However, to make sure, I will commit some important bits to memory.' Edward leaned forward, patted the pile of papers on the table between them. ‘I've already memorized certain salient points from my father's diary, if one can call it that. It's really a lot of notes, jottings, his odd thoughts about Deravenels, but useful nonetheless.'

‘And the company rules?'

Edward smiled faintly. ‘I have them down pat, thanks to my mother.'

Leaning back in the leather wing chair, Neville now asked, ‘Do you mind if I smoke a cigar, Ned?'

‘Please do,' was his laconic response.

Neville went through the process of clipping the end of the cigar, lighting it, striking several matches to do so, and puffing hard. Finally, it ignited, and he relaxed, settled into the chair.

Although he had not shown it in any way, Neville was
beginning to worry about his cousin. Since Lily's death, two weeks ago now, he had seemed depressed, withdrawn even, which was not like him at all. There was an aura of sadness around Ned, and it showed in his sorrowful eyes, his gloomy expression. What struck Neville most forcibly was the quietness, almost a resignation, in the younger man.

As he glanced at him surreptitiously, Neville noticed the dark smudges under his eyes, which were lacklustre, and he appeared thinner in the face. He's not sleeping well, Neville decided, and he's grieving. But then why wouldn't he be? He had, after all, loved Lily; Neville had come to understand that.
Time
. He needs time to heal. But he's young, he'll spring back.

These thoughts brought a certain comfort to Neville, and he turned his mind to the board meeting which would be held in London in a few days. Ned would present his case against Henry Grant, and Neville was praying that he would win.
He had to win
.

For his part, Edward was focused on another meeting, one which had taken place last week. In the offices of Lily's solicitors, to be exact.

He had been meaning to tell Neville about this, yet he had not found the right time to do so. Deciding it was now, at this very moment, Edward announced, ‘Lily left me everything, Neville.'

Taken by surprise, Neville sat up straighter and stared at Edward through startled eyes. ‘
Everything
,' he repeated, sounding incredulous.

‘Yes.'

‘You mean she made you her heir?'

‘That's correct.'

‘What of her family? Are they not put out?' Neville's light blue eyes narrowed. ‘Surely there will be some sort of reaction, trouble about this? Or is the will watertight?'

‘It's watertight all right, but there is no problem, Neville. Lily was an only child, well…actually her brother died when he was a little boy, of meningitis. So she ended up being the only child of wealthy parents. There are no other relatives. Lily was alone, except for me. And Vicky, her best friend.'

‘I see.' Neville puffed on his cigar for a moment, and then murmured, ‘It's always been my understanding that her late husbands left her very well taken care of indeed. Isn't that so?'

‘It is, and she had a very shrewd head on her. Lily made some excellent investments.'

‘It's a large estate?'

‘Oh yes. Lily left me her house in Belsize Park Gardens, the house she recently bought in Kent, and another house she purchased about a month ago in South Audley Street. And—'

‘Good Lord!' Neville exclaimed, cutting across Edward. ‘She has made you a wealthy man, Ned, hasn't she?'

He sighed, and pursed his lips. ‘She has. However, I'd much prefer to have her living and breathing and here in this room with us, rather than dead and buried in the ground.'

‘Of course you would, I fully understand your feelings.'

‘She left most of her jewellery to Vicky,' Ned went on, ‘except for a few things she bequeathed to Fenella, and some of her antiques to Vicky, other pieces to me.
The rest of her furniture will go to Haddon House. Actually, Lily was rather generous to them, Neville. And to several of her other favourite charities as well, as a matter of fact. The residue of her estate comes to me.'

Neville sat back, his eyes focused on Edward. After a moment's reflection, he said slowly, ‘I imagine the residue is quite large.'

‘Yes,' Ned murmured, ‘it is…' He decided to say no more.

Ever since he had returned to Ravenscar, Edward had lain awake at night, finding it hard to fall asleep. Nothing was different tonight. The moment he had closed his eyes his mind had begun to work, numerous worrying thoughts jostling for prominence, and sleep was, once more, elusive.

There was a full moon visible through the window, and it was coating everything in the room with a light layer of silver. Earlier he had opened the window and in the past hour the weather had grown colder than ever. It was always chilly at night here on the North Sea, even in summer, and he realized it must be bitter outside for the room to have grown this icy. The wind was blowing the curtains, and they were billowing out like the sails of a ship.

Jumping out of bed, he went to close the casement, then walked over to the fireplace, threw another log onto the glowing embers. The log instantly flared and crackled, sparks flew up the chimney, and he knew that within minutes the room would be much warmer.
Struggling into his woollen dressing gown and fastening the belt, he found his slippers, seated himself in a chair, pulled it closer to the hearth. His busy thoughts swirled in his head as he hunched down, leaned forward to warm his hands.

Unexpectedly, a small smile flickered on his mouth and was almost instantly gone…it was the first time he had been even faintly amused since Lily's death…The look on Neville's face this afternoon had been quite priceless. He had known instantly that his cousin was flabbergasted about Lily's will, even if he had taken the news in his stride.

Resting his head on the back of the chair, Edward closed his eyes, and thought of Lily; her generosity to him had been astounding. He heard her solicitor's voice echoing in the inner recesses of his mind, as Mr Jolliet had read from the will made three months before. ‘If a child or children of mine do not survive me, and if I am not married, I do give and bequeath to my friend Edward Thomas Deravenel all of my worldly goods, as listed herein, and with the exception of…' And then Mr Jolliet had read out the other bequests and the recipients.

Oh Lily, Lily, if only you were here, he thought, his heart contracting. How I miss you, and how I wish I had told you just how much I cared for you. I did love you, Lily, I truly did, and with all of my heart. His thoughts drifted; he fell down into himself.

Catastrophe lurks around every corner…life comes
at you hard, to hit you in the face. Life is full of
surprises, some of them good but most of them…
catastrophic. That is what my mother asked me…
has no one ever told you that life is catastrophic? Well,
I know now that it is. That is the way it has always
been, my cousin Johnny says, and that what matters
most is the way one handles catastrophes and
heartaches, the pain of it all. He told me the other day
that I cannot let Lily's death get me down. That I have
to keep my eyes on the goal: On Deravenels, he means.
And he is right, just as Neville is, too. I am glad it has
now all come to a head. Glad that the board have
accepted my request to bring a complaint against Henry
Grant. I am well prepared for the board meeting. I
have re-read my father's notes, gone through all of the
Deravenel papers, made my own notes, committed them
to memory wherever necessary
.

Neville and I have met with Hugh Codrill, the famous
barrister, and he has reviewed everything for us, all of the
medical papers Amos acquired, the medical reports and
analyses. He has recommended a highly reputable law
firm, solicitors with whom we have met, and who will
advise me. No one can go to the meeting with me. Neville,
Johnny and Will are not part of the company and therefore
cannot be present. But I have Alfredo Oliveri, Rob
Aspen and Christopher Green. The three of them happen
to be board members, and they are on my side
.

Oliveri explained to me that after I have presented
my case, the board will take a recess, discuss everything,
and return to meet with me within two hours.
At that time they will tell me if I have a genuine case
or not. If I don't, then nothing more can happen. If
they agree that I have a strong complaint, due cause,
they will confer between themselves for several days, in
order to make an ultimate decision. I will be summoned
to a second meeting with them, and they will pass judgement.
That is the procedure, and it has been in place
for hundreds of years. Oliveri and Aspen have helped
me to keep my spirits up. They are strong, loyal, level
headed
.

My cause is just. I must not lose. My father and my
brother died at the hands of the Grants, so did Uncle
Rick and my cousin Thomas. And Lily and my unborn
child. I keep saying to myself that I want revenge. But
what I really want is justice for those who died. My
cause is right. Henry Grant has given up his power to
John Summers and his wife, Margot Grant. And over
sixty years ago his grandfather was the usurper
.

I am the true heir
.

I aim to win
.

There was a light tapping on the door, and it brought Edward out of his reverie. Sitting up, he pushed himself to his feet and strode across the room.

Standing outside in the shadowy corridor was his youngest brother, shivering in his dressing gown, pale faced, his slate-grey eyes grown dark, almost black, genuine worry shadowing them.

‘Good Lord, Little Fish! What are you doing here at this hour?' As he spoke Edward grabbed Richard and pulled him into his arms, then swept him into the room.

‘I'm worried,' Richard murmured, his voice low, subdued.

‘Come here, sit on my knee, and let's get ourselves warm. And you can tell me why a boy like you should be worried. After all, you have a mother and a big brother to look after you.'

Climbing onto Edward's knee, Richard settled himself against Edward's broad chest, and explained, ‘I'm not worried for me, I am worried for
you
. George told me that your friend died, your lady friend, that is, and that you were broken-hearted. Is that true, Ned, are you broken-hearted and devastated? That's what George says.'

‘And I wonder where Mr Know-It-All-George gets
his
information? Not from me, I can assure you of that, Tiddler.' Edward hugged his brother, and then tilted his face upward. ‘I'm going to be all right, my lad, and thank you for your concern. You mustn't worry about me any longer. Don't listen to George. I can look after myself, and I say again, I will be fine.'