Being Elizabeth Read online

  ‘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.

  FIVE

  ‘Come on, Elizabeth, stop dithering and let’s go,’ Robert Dunley said, staring hard at her. ‘We don’t have to stay very long if you don’t want to, but I do think it’s a good idea to have a look around.’

  ‘Oh, all right,’ she answered after another moment of hesitation. Robert had invited her to have Sunday lunch at the Savoy, but when she had arrived a few minutes ago he had told her they first had to go over to Deravenels.

  Nodding, looking pleased, he now took hold of her arm, propelled her through the hotel lobby and out into the forecourt. Within seconds they were crossing the Strand, heading for the humungous building that was Deravenels.

  ‘What is it that you want me to see, actually?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’ His dark brown eyes filled with laughter. ‘And I can’t wait to see your face.’

  ‘But what is it?’ she probed, impatient to know what this was.

  ‘Can’t tell you,’ he answered firmly as they came to a stop in front of the huge double door of the building. Robert immediately punched a number into the keypad embedded in the stone wall to the left of the door, and stood back, waiting.

  A split-second later, a disembodied voice came through the intercom system: ‘Good morning. Who is it, please?’

  ‘Good morning, Alfred, it’s Robert Dunley.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Please enter.’

  There was a loud buzzing noise; Robert pushed the heavy door and, as it sprang open, he escorted Elizabeth inside.

  Standing waiting for them in the central lobby was the weekend commissionaire, Alfred Vine. His face lit up at the sight of Elizabeth and he exclaimed, ‘Miss Turner! What a pleasure to see you. Welcome back.’

  ‘It’s nice to see you, too, Alfred.’ Elizabeth gave him a warm smile; she had known him for years, as she had most of the service staff.

  ‘I was sorry to hear about Mrs Turner Alvarez,’ the commissionaire went on in a low tone. ‘My condolences, Miss Turner.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s kind of you.’

  Robert said, ‘We’re going up to the executive offices, Alfred, we won’t be very long.’

  ‘Take your time, sir, no problem.’

  Elizabeth glanced around as the two of them walked across the gargantuan marble foyer, their footsteps clattering loudly as they made for the great double staircase that flowed up to the first floor. How impressed she had been with this foyer when she was a young girl; it had intimidated her. She smiled to herself. Perhaps it still did in a certain way. It was impressive, no two ways about that.

  ‘It’s very quiet this morning, Robin,’ Elizabeth said, and instantly looked startled as her voice echoed back to her. ‘Oh, goodness, I’d forgotten about the echo in here.’

  ‘Had you now?’ Robert glanced at her, grinning. ‘Don’t you remember the time we first discovered it? We were about ten and started �
��making echoes”, as you called it, by screaming and shouting. There was hell to pay.’

  ‘God, yes, I do remember! Your father and mine were absolutely furious with us, because of the noise we made. But it was Sunday, and the place was deserted, just as it is this morning. I never quite understood the fuss.’

  ‘My father docked my spending money. What did yours do?’

  Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I can’t recall, just shouted at me, I think.’

  They went on up the staircase in silence, headed down the main corridor and stopped outside the managing director’s office. Robert said, ‘Close your eyes. I want this to really be a surprise.’

  Elizabeth did as he asked; he took hold of her hand, led her into the office, switched on the overhead light and said, ‘Okay, you can open your eyes.’

  She did so and instantly gasped. ‘Oh, my God! Robin! How on earth did you manage to do this?’ As she spoke, her eyes swept around the room, swiftly taking everything in, and then she turned around and hugged him. ‘It’s Father’s office once again, not hers! Oh, thank you!’

  ‘Do you like it?’ he asked eagerly, as always, wishing to please her.

  ‘I love it, can’t you tell?’ She walked slowly around the large room which had been occupied in the last hundred years by Richard Deravenel, his son Edward Deravenel, and Edward’s youngest brother Richard. Then it had been her grandfather’s, and after Henry Turner died, her father Harry had occupied it for years.

  Because Edward Selmere had been the administrator, running the company on behalf of her younger brother, he had used another office on the executive floor. Once Mary had become managing director it was her domain, as was proper, but she had made a mess of it, in Elizabeth’s opinion.

  Looking at Robert, Elizabeth asked, ‘What on earth did you do with all that ghastly modern furniture Mary bought?’