Читать книгу Being Elizabeth - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 10

FOUR

He has not changed much over the years, my friend Robin. Not in character at least. He has always been thoughtful, caring, worrying about my comfort; or second-guessing me; or showing up out of the blue, as if he could read my mind. When I was a child I was always hoping he would persuade his father to bring him to Kent to stay with us. Often I got down and prayed that he would arrive.

Sometimes he and his father would show up at Waverley Court, usually on a Friday afternoon, and John Dunley would leave Robin with us for the weekend, or often longer in the summer. Kat Ashe, my governess, had taken a great liking to Robin and welcomed him warmly. Looking back. I’m sure it was Kat and Robin’s father who concocted these visits between them, knowing how isolated I was.

We first met at my father’s Chelsea house, and we took an instant liking to each other. That day when he came to have lunch and play with me, I asked him how old he was, and he told me he was eight. I remember how surprised I was, because he was tall and looked older, and then I confided, ‘I’m also eight. My birthday is on September the seventh. When’s yours?’ I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look of astonishment on Robin’s face. ‘That’s my birthday too! September the seventh. We’ll have to have a joint party!’ He grinned at me and exclaimed, ‘Gosh, we’re actually twins, Elizabeth!’ It’s often struck me how alike he and I are, in fact.

I was a lonely little girl. My father had taken a terrible dislike to me after my mother died in a car accident in France. He shunned me, eventually disowned me, and shunted me around to stay with any of his relatives who would have me. I felt unwanted and unloved, and actually I was. By him, anyway.

Eventually, Father sent me to Kent, to live at Stonehurst Farm. And Kat came too. She became a surrogate mother to me; Kat loved me very much, and loves me to this day, but, as can only be expected, in those days I wanted my father’s love. He with-held it. In fact, he was cruel and inhuman in his behaviour towards me.

My father abandoned me, showed me little or no consideration, and did not bother much about my well being, leaving everything to Kat. He was verbally abusive to me when we did meet, calling me terrible names, telling me I was a bastard, insisting that he was not my father, and shouting at me, saying that my mother had been a cheating whore. I never quite understood why he hated me so much, and I still don’t, not really. Obviously, I was terrified of him.

When I was little I pretended that Robin was my brother, because I so desperately wanted a family, wanted to belong to somebody. And needed someone to love. I loved Robin then, and I still love him. He is my best friend. And I know, deep inside, that I am his; certainly he’s often told me so. We were close in childhood, but we drifted apart as we grew older and he was sent off to boarding school. Still, if I ever needed him, he was always there for me, and in those awful days when Mary was vengeful and mean, he was kind and comforting. My loyal and devoted Robin.

I’m glad Cecil likes him. They’ve known each other for years because Cecil worked for Robin’s father at one time, which was when they got to know each other. They are somewhat different in temperament. Cecil Williams, with his grey eyes and clever face and bright intelligence, is a man that everyone trusts and listens to. Like me, he has a degree of caution, is wary and does not make hasty decisions. He watches and waits, as I do. A lawyer by training, he scrupulously abides by the rules.

Robin is also intelligent, shrewd and clever, and has proved himself to be brilliant in business. His handsome features and dark good looks, plus an easy natural charm and a gift of the gab, add to his potent charisma. And with his height and build and flair for clothes, women tend to run after him, fall at his feet. Although he doesn’t pay much attention to them, I know he likes women and their company. But he’s never been a womanizer; he has a good reputation in that respect. The only thing I have ever cautioned him about is his impulsiveness. And he does appear to be more restrained these days.

I’m glad he came up to Yorkshire last Sunday. It was a lovely surprise and he, Nicholas, Cecil and I were able to talk at length about Deravenels and future plans. He and Nicholas left on Monday morning. Cecil and I stayed on, of course, working together for several days. Also, we had to remain at Ravenscar because of the funeral. Sixty people attended, and we managed to squeeze everybody into the chapel. John Norfell had arranged everything with his usual good taste and punctilliousness. The chapel was filled with flowers, Mary’s favourite priest was brought from London, and the priest and John Norfell accompanied the coffin. Afterwards there was a catered lunch at the house. I did my duty and played the part, kept a solemn demeanour and said all of the right things to everyone with a quiet dignity. At least, Cecil told me I had been dignified and appropriate. Once everyone left, Cecil and I loaded his car with luggage and drove to London together.

And here I am on Saturday morning, back in my own apartment in Eaton Square, waiting for my darling Kat, who’s due to arrive at any moment. I can’t wait to see her … it’s been several months since we last met.

‘Let me look at you, darling girl,’ Kat said, staring up into Elizabeth’s face. ‘I must say, you look none the worse for being all those weeks in the frozen north. I’d even go so far as to say you seem to be in blooming health. If a little pale.’

Elizabeth began to laugh, hugging her former governess, the woman who had brought her up. Finally releasing her, she said, ‘Kat, I’m never anything but pale, and you should know that since you’re the one who never let me out in the sun or the wind.’

‘That’s just it, it’s usually so very windy at Ravenscar. Frankly, it crossed my mind that you might have a bit of a windburn since you’ve been there for several weeks. And you have had it in the past,’ Kat reminded her.

‘When I was a child.’ Taking hold of her arm, leading her across the foyer, Elizabeth continued, ‘You know I listen to everything you say, and I’ve been protecting my skin for years, following your rules.’

Kat smiled. ‘Yes, I know.’

The two women went into the living room which Kat had helped Elizabeth decorate several years ago. Spacious and airy, it had a high ceiling, tall windows and a fireplace where a fire burned brightly. It was cheerful and inviting with its daffodil-yellow walls, cream sofas and chairs, as well as a number of good antique pieces which had been borrowed from attics at Ravenscar.

Elizabeth said, ‘I’ve lots to talk to you about, but first I must go and get the coffee –’

‘Let me do that,’ Kat cut in.

‘No, no, I’ll bring the tray,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘Just this once, please allow me to do something for you, Kat. You’ve been looking after me most of my life.’

‘All right, thank you.’

Elizabeth hurried out and Kat strolled over to one of the two windows, staring down at the garden in the middle of Eaton Square. The trees were bare, and there was a sense of bereftness about the garden on this cold Saturday. To her way of thinking, there was nothing quite as sad and dreary as a winter garden full of dead things. One of her joys these days was tending to her gardens; another, even greater, joy in her life was Elizabeth Turner, whom she loved and had brought up as if she were her own child.

‘Here I am!’ Elizabeth came back into the living room carrying a large tray which she put down on a low table in front of the fire. ‘Come on, let’s have coffee and catch up, Kat.’

The two women sat on the sofa in front of the fire chatting about a number of things, and then Elizabeth said, ‘Please fill me in about your visit to Aunt Grace Rose, would you? How is she?’

‘Quite incredible,’ Kat answered, smiling, her motherly face lighting up. ‘As usual, it was something of a treat to be with her. You know, it’s hard to believe she’s ninety-six, but she is … she’s exactly the same age as the year. Her mind is very sharp, no sign of senility there, and she looks extraordinary, rather smart and well put together.’

‘How amazing she is, still going strong at that age.’

Kat volunteered, ‘Naturally she’s a bit frail these days, but she told me she’s out and about all the time, going to this lunch, that dinner. If I get to be that old I hope I’m just like her.’

‘I know what you mean,’ Elizabeth replied, and then said, ‘I was relieved when you phoned me and said she had no intention of coming to Mary’s funeral. I’d had visions of her insisting she must attend because of … well, family. You know how she puts such store in that.’

Putting down her coffee cup, and sitting back on the sofa, Kat explained, ‘She confessed that she doesn’t go to funerals any more. Not at her age, she said, because she’ll be attending her own soon enough, without the need of previews. She also went on to say that she only accepts invitations to christenings and weddings, but really prefers christenings because modern marriages don’t seem to last very long, so why bother going in the first place. She had me laughing the whole time I was there.’

Elizabeth nodded, laughing herself. ‘She hasn’t changed, she’s apparently as forthright as she always was. Does she need anything?’

‘If you mean money, no, she’s extremely wealthy. However, she does need one particular thing.’

Elizabeth leaned forward eagerly. ‘Tell me what it is, and hopefully I can get it for her.’

‘You certainly can. She wants to see you. And as soon as possible. She knows how busy you’re going to be, but she asked me to remind you that time is not something she has a lot of, being that she’s ninety-six years old.’

‘Why does she want to see me?’

‘I think she needs to see you is perhaps a better way of putting it. Why she does I have no idea. She didn’t explain.’

‘This coming week is going to be impossible, but I’ll give you some dates for the following week. I’ll have to see her in the evening, though,’ Elizabeth answered. ‘Will you come with me, Kat?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t, darling. Grace Rose told me she wishes to see you alone. It seems she has something to tell you, and she says it’s most important.’

‘I see. I’ll just have to work something out.’

‘What about tomorrow afternoon, Elizabeth? For tea. If she’s free, of course,’ Kat suggested.

‘I’ve so much to do tomorrow, I have to sort out my clothes, prepare for the terrible week ahead.’ Elizabeth shook her head, looking worried. ‘I’ve no idea where to begin, especially at Deravenels.’

Noting her anxiousness, and detecting the genuine worry in her voice, Kat took hold of Elizabeth’s hand, and squeezed it, then said firmly, ‘Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to run Deravenels very well –’

‘Listen to me, Kat,’ Elizabeth interrupted. ‘I value your confidence in me, and thank you for that, but it’s not going to be quite so easy. I mean it when I say I don’t know where to begin. I’ve never run a huge company before, and I haven’t worked at Deravenels for a year, because of Mary’s contentiousness. I’m afraid I’m going to flounder, make a mess of everything.’

‘No, you won’t. I know you too well to even consider such a thing. You’re very efficient. You’ve always had great business acumen like your father, and you have down-to-earth values and a lot of practicality. Besides, you’re not running the company alone, now, are you?’

‘No, that’s true. I have Cecil Williams, Robin Dunley, and Nicholas Throckman, and Cecil told me yesterday that Francis Walsington has returned from Paris, now that Mary’s dead.’

‘All you need are a few good men,’ Kat asserted. ‘And you have them.’

‘That’s true.’

Kat looked off into the distance for a moment or two, and then turning to Elizabeth, she said, ‘You’re going to have far too much to cope with, without worrying about your clothes and other things like that. I have a suggestion –’ She broke off, sat staring intently at the young woman she had raised, and whom she knew so well.

‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Here’s an idea, Elizabeth. Why don’t you ask Blanche Parrell to get your clothes organized? She did that for you for years when you were growing up. Let her shop for you, select skirt suits, trouser suits, coats, shoes, accessories. Everything, actually. She can get things together here, and all you have to do is try them on, choose and discard. And you can do it at night.’

Elizabeth’s expression brightened. ‘That’s a fantastic idea, Kat! And I’ve got another one. Would you take over the running of this apartment and Ravenscar? I’ve been doing that myself, as you know, but I don’t think I’ll have much time in the future. The demands on me at Deravenels will be huge.’

‘But Ravenscar is Lucas’s bailiwick, isn’t it? Won’t he resent interference from me?’

‘No, he won’t. Anyway, you’ll only be supervising, visiting occasionally, making sure the estate is all right, and the exteriors of the house in good condition. You won’t be intruding in any of the domestic arrangements. Lucas and his wife Marta manage the house very well, and we have a few women from the village who come in and help with the cleaning. As for this apartment, there’s not much to supervise, I realize that, and certainly Angelina is a good housekeeper. But there’s Waverley Court in Kent. I’ve been going down every few weeks to make sure that there are no problems. I won’t be able to do that now, not with the workload I’m facing.’

Kat didn’t have to think twice. ‘Of course I’ll do it! Actually, I think I’d enjoy it … what you’re proposing is that I become a steward, as they were called a century ago, someone who administers properties, houses, estates, and the finances of those places. Am I correct?’

‘Yes.’ Leaning forward, Elizabeth went on, ‘Then there’s Stonehurst Farm to think of. Grace Rose gave it to my father years ago, and Mary always used it, just as she used the old house in Chelsea. What about those properties? Actually, what am I going to do with them, Kat?’

‘You don’t want to live in the Chelsea house?’

‘No, I don’t. I like this apartment.’

‘That house has been in the family for years. It was passed down from Richard Deravenel to your grandmother, and Bess left it to your father. ‘If I remember correctly he lived there, too, at one time.’

‘But he never went to Stonehurst Farm. As you know, he preferred Waverley Court when he wanted to stay in the south of England. He loved Ravenscar the best, as I do.’

‘I remember. But look here, let’s go into your study and make a list of what you’ll need me to attend to, Elizabeth. Personally, I think I will have to concentrate on the house in Chelsea and Stonehurst Farm first, since Mary has been living in both places for years. Someone will have to deal with all of her possessions, sort them out.’

‘Oh, God, you’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. And there’s something else, Kat.’ Elizabeth jumped up, and beckoned for Kat to follow as she headed for her study. ‘I’ve got all these bank vaults to inspect. Would you help me with those?’

‘Naturally. I’ll take over, don’t you worry. What you have to do is concentrate on Deravenels, and the running of it.’

Later that day Elizabeth recalled Kat’s words about concentrating on Deravenels and running it; when she had said them this morning, they had struck a chord in her mind. Now she remembered. Her father had said something similar to her when she was nine years old. But about himself, not her. That particular day had always stayed in her mind, the memory of it very clear. It had been the day her father had welcomed her back into the family … such a happy day. She leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes, remembering …

‘Don’t stand there, hanging back like that,’ Harry Turner said, his blue eyes roaming over the young girl standing before him in the library.

The girl nodded, took a step closer to him, clearing her throat.

Frowning, he asked in a pleasant voice, ‘Surely you’re not afraid of me, Elizabeth, are you?’

Having always said she was not afraid of anyone or anything, Elizabeth denied this at once. ‘No, Father, I’m not afraid of you. However, we’re not very well acquainted, are we? Perhaps I’m a little shy.’

A smile tugged at his mouth, and then he said, ‘Don’t be shy with me, I’m your father. Now come, give me a kiss.’

Elizabeth walked forward and Harry bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. Then he said, ‘I hear that you are doing well at school, that you are an exceptional student. That pleases me, Elizabeth.’

Putting her hand in her green blazer pocket, Elizabeth pulled out an envelope and offered it to him. ‘This is for you, Father. My school report.’

Nodding, he took it from her, and read it. ‘Congratulations are in order, I see!’ he exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. ‘You’re the top of your class, and you have an A-plus in everything. Good Lord, do you really speak five languages?’ He stared at her, obviously impressed.

‘If you include English, yes.’

He laughed. ‘And what are the other four?’

‘Latin, French, Italian and German.’

‘German’s tough to master. Clever girl, clever girl, Elizabeth. Now turn around, let me look at you properly.’

She did as he asked, feeling able to smile at him, feeling more relaxed, less intimidated.

‘By God, you’re a true Turner!’ he cried. ‘My red-gold hair, my height, and my father’s lean build. And a Deravenel as well. You have my mother’s colouring, yes indeed. Well, I can’t say I mind having a true Turner for a daughter. I’m rather chuffed about it, actually. Now let’s go to the dining room and have lunch, and I shall tell you all about Deravenels, and how I run it.’

Elizabeth looked up at him, and a wide smile spread across her face. ‘I’d like that, Father, and perhaps one day you will take me to Deravenels.’

‘After lunch,’ he promised, getting hold of her hand and leading her to the dining room in the Chelsea house.

Sitting up in the chair, Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and went into her dressing room, stood staring at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was a true Turner all right, with a large dose of Deravenel thrown in.

The smile lingered on her face as she went into the library and sat down at the desk in the corner. How could she ever forget that day …? The day she was rehabilitated and became something of a favourite of his … the day she had started to admire him, understanding what an extraordinary tycoon he was. And love for him had softened all that hatred, which had formed around her like a carapace. She would always have mixed feelings about her father, but loving him had become easier as the next few years had passed, and by the time he died there was little hatred left. She was glad of that.