Читать книгу Heirs of Ravenscar - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 8

TWO

Ravenscar stood high on the cliffs above the sea, which was glittering like polished steel in the brilliant light of mid-morning.

The house was built of mellowed, golden-hued stone, and was ancient, dated back to the sixteenth century and Tudor times. A pure Elizabethan house of fluid symmetry and perfect proportions, it had been home to the Deravenel family for centuries.

Built in 1578 by Edward’s ancestors to replace the ruined stronghold still perched on the promontory below, it was a house which Edward had loved since childhood. He genuinely appreciated its overall beauty, cherished it for the meaning it had held for those Deravenels who had gone before, and those who would follow, once he had departed this world.

Now as he rode around the circular courtyard at the front and went on towards the stable block, he paid no attention at all to the grandeur and elegance of this stately dwelling, did not even notice the many windows sparkling in the wintry sunshine or the façade of honey-coloured stone aglow in that dazzling light so peculiar to these northern climes. He held only one thought in his head: his son. His heir. Edward, his namesake, whom he loved with all his heart.

Edward needed to see him. The very thought that his son had contracted Spanish flu filled him with dread. It was a virulent killer, had gone from epidemic to pandemic since it had broken out in the summer. People in Europe, England, and America, in many other countries around the world, had been laid low, and thousands had died.

Finally trotting into the cobbled yard behind the house, Edward jumped off his stallion, glancing around as he did, looking for the stable lads. Not one of them was in sight. ‘Ernie! Jim!’ he called, ‘I’m back.’

Richard had followed him into the yard, and as he dismounted he said, ‘I’ll deal with the horses, Ned. Please go into the house, I know how anxious you are.’

Edward nodded and hurried off without another word.

Richard watched his brother stride towards the back door, anxiety ringing his face. People thought that Edward Deravenel held the world in his arms, and, in a sense, perhaps he did. Certainly he had everything any man of thirty-three could ever desire. Yet at this moment, Richard knew, his brother was truly vulnerable, filled with concern for his son. His great success, immense wealth and undeniable power could not buy the boy’s recovery. Only God, and a good doctor, could do that. Silently Richard prayed that his little nephew would be all right. He loved him like his own, just as he loved all of his brother’s children, most especially his niece Bess.

Taking the reins of the horses, he led them across the yard towards the stalls just as Ernie, one of the stable lads, suddenly appeared, looking worried.

‘I’ll tek ’em from yer, Mr Richard,’ the lad said, then added apologetically, ‘Sorry I weren’t out ’ere when yer got back. It was Minnie, Mr Richard, that there young filly. Right skittish, that she is.’

Richard nodded his understanding as he handed over the reins. ‘She has calmed down, has she?’

The lad said, ‘Yeah, but can yer ’ave a look at ’er, sir? Mebbe there’s summat really wrong. Yer knows wot, I think it’s ’er front foot.’ Orseshoe might be loose. Mebbe she’ll get real troublesome again.’

‘Yes, I’ll examine her foot, Ernie, but I must be rather quick about it.’

‘Nowt but a minute, Mr Richard, it’ll only tek a minute.’

When Edward had entered the house he had been struck by the overwhelming silence, and now, after throwing his outer jacket onto a bench in the gun room, he rushed down the corridor, frowning. Usually this part of the house was filled with constant sounds, familiar sounds … the clatter of pots and pans emanating from the kitchen, as well as cheerful laughter and the dominant tones of Cook giving orders to the kitchen maids. But unexpectedly there was not a single sound at this moment, and Edward was puzzled because it was not at all normal.

He paused when he reached the Long Hall, curious about the absence of Jessup. The butler was generally hovering around in this area, wanting to be of service, but he was nowhere in sight.

Edward shrugged, and had begun to walk towards the staircase when Jessup came hurrying out of the butler’s pantry, asking swiftly, ‘Do you need anything, Mr Deravenel?’

‘No, but thanks anyway, Jessup. I’m on my way upstairs to look in on Master Edward. Have you seen him this morning?’

‘Yes, I have, sir. A bit under the weather he is, poor little mite. But then he’s a strong young fellow, isn’t he, sir?’

‘Yes, indeed he is. Please bring the doctor up immediately when he arrives, Jessup, won’t you?’

‘Oh, yes, sir, right away.’

With a slight nod Edward was gone, taking the stairs two at a time, heading for the nursery floor where the children spent most of their time. Striding rapidly down the corridor, he realized he could already hear the sound of his five-year-old son coughing before he even reached the bedroom, and he felt his chest tighten. He stood outside the door for a moment, filled with sudden apprehension, and took a deep breath to steady himself before going inside.

Elizabeth was leaning over their son, and she glanced around as Ned hurried to the bedside. ‘He’s feverish,’ she murmured, smoothing the boy’s red-gold hair away from his damp forehead, ‘and exhausted from this frightful coughing.’

Edward moved closer and squeezed her shoulder, wanting to reassure her. When he leaned over the child himself, he was shocked, disturbed when he saw his son’s appearance. The child looked as though he was burning up with fever and his blue eyes were glazed. Beads of sweat stood out on his face and Edward was more alarmed than ever, realizing that his son did not even recognize him.

He turned to his wife, asked quietly, ‘Don’t we have any cough medicine in the house? Surely there’s something? Somewhere?’

‘We gave it to him already, Ned, but I was afraid of giving him too much, over-dosing him. It is rather a strong syrup. Your mother then remembered the raspberry vinegar concoction she used to make for you and your brothers. She went downstairs to explain to Cook how to prepare it. She said she gave it to you when you were a child.’

‘That’s true. It’s made of raspberry vinegar, butter and sugar, all boiled, and like a lot of those old remedies from the past it seems to work very well.’

‘I hope so.’

Looking over at the bed, Edward remarked in a low voice, ‘I think he’d feel better propped up against the pillows, rather than lying flat. It might help him, ease the congestion in his chest, if he were sitting up.’

Without waiting for her response, Edward gently brought their child closer to him, wrapping his arms around him, and said to his wife, ‘Please move the pillows, Elizabeth, lean them against the headboard.’

She did so without a word; he placed the boy against them, kissed his forehead and straightened the bedclothes.

Edward looked towards the door as it opened to admit his mother, who was carrying a tray. Cecily Deravenel exclaimed, ‘I’m relieved you’re here, Ned,’ and immediately put the tray down on a chest of drawers. ‘I’m going to try and get him to take this syrup of mine. I also found another medicine downstairs that might be helpful as well.

It’s that Creopin mixture, for inhaling. I bought it in London recently.’

‘Is Creopin better than Friar’s Balsam, do you think, Mother?’

‘I’m not sure, Ned, we’ll ask the doctor when he gets here,’ Cecily replied, and began to attend to her grandson, spooning the raspberry mixture into his mouth.

After a moment, Edward touched Elizabeth’s arm and whispered, ‘Let’s go outside for a moment, darling.’ Taking her arm, he guided her to the door. Once they were in the corridor alone, he pulled her into his arms and held her close, stroking her hair. Against her cheek, he said, ‘Do try not to worry. We’ll get him well, Elizabeth, I promise.’

‘Do you promise me that, Ned?’

‘Oh, I do, Elizabeth, I do promise you he’ll soon be as right as rain.’

Elizabeth let her body relax against his, comforted by his presence, his warmth and his love. When it came to his children’s welfare she trusted him implicitly. Also, Ned’s self-assurance, his confidence in himself, his belief that he could control everyone and everything had always made her feel safe. Some thought these characteristics reflected his arrogance. She knew otherwise; and no one knew him better than she did.