Being Elizabeth (6 page)

Robin has done good by me yet again. Persuading me to go to
Deravenels was an inspired idea on his part. I have lost my
fear of the place. I had been dreading going back after a year's
absence, because it holds so many memories for me, both good
and bad. The bad ones are all to do with Mary and her treatment
of me. Once she took over she became a tyrant in so many
ways, not the least with me. She was suspicious and treacherous,
and endeavoured to nullify my existence. Finally she
banished me
.

I really missed my job, but there was nothing I could do. She
was managing director and I had been dismissed. I took myself
off to Ravenscar, and although she hated that house and never
came there, I remained fearful of her mood-swings and temper
tantrums. Long-distance enemy she might be, but an enemy
nonetheless, and I never knew when she might do something
nasty to me
.

The good memories are to do with my father, and when I
saw his office looking exactly the way it had when he occupied
it, I was happy. I had never quite understood why Mary had
torn it apart, put the valuable antiques in the storage unit, and
filled it with hard-edged modern furniture. Unless it was a way
of obliterating our father in her mind. She had always harboured
a grudge against him because he had discarded her mother; deep
down, I don't think she ever forgave him for that, although she
was devious enough to put up a good front
.

Seeing the room looking the way it had for centuries was a
thrill for me, and happy memories washed over me. Once my
father had brought me back into his life, when I was nine, he
often took me to the office with him in the mornings. I would
sit on the Chesterfield and read books about our vineyards in
France, diamond mines in India, and gold mines in Africa. He
filled my head with information about our ancient trading
company before taking me to lunch at the Savoy or Rules. As
I grew older, he became impressed with my intelligence and
knowledge, and I think that's when Mary grew more jealous
than ever of me. She hated him when he praised me; she hated
me because I looked like a miniature Harry Turner with his red
hair and height and Turner looks. Father often told me I had
the thin, wiry build of my grandfather Henry Turner, the
Welshman who had married Bess Deravenel and taken over as
the head of Deravenels. And it was true, I did, and I was proud
of that
.

My father died when I was twelve, but I'd had those wonderful
few years with him and my half-brother Edward, and looking
back, those years were the happiest of my childhood. I was doing
well in the classroom, my father was proud of me, and of
Edward. He and I spent a great deal of time together and were
close and loving. Then there was my new stepmother, Catherine
Parker, a woman who embraced us, my father's children, and
she was loving, kind and mothering to all of us, including Mary
.

My father had hurt my feelings when I was a little girl, but
he made up for his bad behaviour when I was older. I learned
a lot from him, and I suppose he became my role model in the
latter part of his life. He was a brilliant man, and he ran
Deravenels far better than his father had, whom he sometimes
called ‘the caretaker'. He once told me his father had been tight
with money, and that he had never allowed his wife Bess to
participate in anything to do with Deravenels. She was actually
the heiress, through her father Edward, and my father thought
it was wrong of his father to exclude her. He adored his mother,
who brought him up with his younger sister Mary. They spent
a lot of time together at Ravenscar and that's why he loved it
so much, I suppose. His mother was the biggest influence on
his life, and it was she who had filled his head with Deravenel
family lore and legend
.

Father passed that onto me, and tomorrow I shall go to
Deravenels and take my rightful place as the head of the company.
I am my father's heir. It is my right
.

‘Elizabeth, can you come and have a look at the clothes, please?' Blanche Parrell asked in her lilting Welsh voice, pushing open the door of the study, poking her head around it.

‘Yes, right away,' Elizabeth answered. She was sitting in a chair near the fire, thinking about her father, but she roused herself at once and jumped to her feet.

‘Purple really does suit you,' Blanche said as an aside, and hurried across the foyer.

‘I think so, too.' Elizabeth followed the lovely Welshwoman, thinking how well Blanche looked today with her pink cheeks, sleek black hair pulled back in a twist, and sparkling black eyes. There was always a warm smile on her face, and she aimed to please at all times. Elizabeth had loved Blanche since she was a child, appreciated her warm and tender nature, not to mention her talent with clothes, and thought of her as one of the family.

‘I know this looks a mess,' Blanche announced, sounding apologetic as they entered the bedroom. ‘But actually I do know where everything goes.'

‘I'd be surprised if you didn't!' Elizabeth glanced across at the set of closets lined up along one wall. To her surprise there were still a lot of clothes hanging there, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh good, I guess we're keeping those!'

‘Yes, we are. I hate to get rid of really good things, not to mention the haute couture pieces, and those are lovely outfits.'

Indicating several piles of clothes on the floor, Blanche continued: ‘All of that stuff can go to Oxfam and other charities with thrift shops, whilst the things on the bed need altering … skirt lengths are wrong, some jackets might be a bit too big or too small, and those items on the chair are for the dry cleaners.'

Elizabeth nodded her understanding. ‘You've done a marvellous job, Blanche. Thank you so much. I wouldn't have managed to do this myself.'

‘No, you wouldn't. You're not ruthless enough about clothing, but then very few women are. They like to hang onto things in case they lose weight, or put it on, or because they might have a special occasion coming up … etcetera, etcetera.'

Elizabeth murmured, ‘I suppose you now want me to try on some of these things?'

‘It would help, don't you think?'

‘Yes. And I need to pick out a suit for my first day back at Deravenels. I think I should wear something smart but low key. One of those trouser suits, perhaps?'

‘Yes, with a crisp white shirt.' Blanche walked over to the closets. ‘Let's go through these, and maybe we can select things for the entire week, to save your time.'

Thomas Parrell sat in Elizabeth's study watching television, except that he wasn't really watching or listening. He merely had the set turned on. Picking up the remote, he zapped it off.

The room was instantly quiet, the only noise the crackling of the fire in the grate and the faint ticking of the carriage clock on the mantlepiece. Settling back in the comfortable armchair and stretching out his legs, he glanced around.

He had always liked this handsome yet cosy room with moss-green silk fabric on the walls, a carpet of the same colour, and dark-rose brocade draperies which matched the big comfortable sofa and armchairs. The mahogany bookshelves along the back wall were filled to overflowing with every kind of book. He smiled to himself. When Elizabeth had been a young girl he had called her ‘the bookworm', and she had laughed with glee, tickled by the name. Never had a more appropriate name been given to anyone. It fitted her perfectly; she never had her nose out of a book, not even today. Elizabeth had always been very learned, a favourite of all the private tutors she had ever had, and he would never forget how awed Harry Turner had been by her precociousness, her intelligence, and knowledge of so many subjects.

The thing Thomas admired most was her toughness of mind. He had come to realize that she thought with her head and not her heart. This, in fact, had been imperative; how well he knew that it was her toughness of mind and swift thinking that had kept her out of trouble – especially with her sister Mary.

Mary was dead and buried and Elizabeth was about to come into her own and he for one was not only relieved but thrilled. He had worked for Elizabeth for years, keeping her books and accounts, and serving as a kind of business manager for her. Harry Turner had appointed him, and he had always been grateful and happy in his job. His sister Blanche and he were usually depicted as members of the Welsh mafia, employees who were as Welsh as the Turners and favoured by them. Once he had told Elizabeth how they were characterized, and she had loved the idea, had burst into gales of laughter. ‘How perfect! And you're all
mine
!'

He stood up at the sound of footsteps in the front hall, and when Elizabeth came in he went to greet her with affection.

‘I'm sorry I've kept you waiting, Thomas. Your sister has been helping to put together my clothes for the entire week. Saves time. Would you like a drink?'

‘That would be nice. Sherry, please.'

A moment later she handed him the glass, poured sparkling water for herself, and then the two of them sat down near the fire.

‘I needed to see you this evening, Thomas, because next week is going to be extremely busy –'

‘I'm sure it will be,' he agreed, cutting in.

‘As I told you on the phone,' Elizabeth went on, ‘Kat is going to look after my properties, for the time being anyway, acting as steward. I've also asked her to check out all my bank vaults, and I want to explain that situation. Those vaults at Coutts, the Westminster and Lloyds are stuffed with valuables, from silver and gold objects to extraordinary jewels, according to Cecil. Would you be willing to help her take an inventory of everything?'

‘I would indeed. My pleasure, very much my pleasure, and she
will
need help by the sound of it.' He nodded, sipped his sherry, and pointed out, ‘We must have a proper and true assessment made of the value of every item, and I can arrange for that as well.'

‘Do it, please. I want you to move as quickly as possible on the vaults.' Elizabeth looked across at the door as Blanche suddenly appeared. ‘Come in, join us, Blanche. It's about time you took a moment to relax. You haven't stopped all day.'

Blanche came over to the fire, explaining, ‘I've finished selecting your clothing for the week. And tomorrow I'll start choosing for the week after.'

‘You're a glutton for punishment,' Elizabeth exclaimed.

‘I always have been, you know that.'

S
he stood outside on the Strand, staring up at the building. Her building. Centuries old, it was imposing, a landmark, and it was about to become her permament abode as her place of work.
DERAVENELS
.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth Deravenel Turner pushed open the door and stepped inside. The commissionaire on duty straightened when he saw her. ‘Good morning, Miss Turner.'

She nodded, flashed him her brightest smile. ‘Good morning Sam.' Moving across the gargantuan marble lobby, she took the stairs slowly, filled with a mixture of emotions: excitement, awe, anticipation, a sense of jubilation because it was now hers, but also a hint of trepidation, mixed with anxiety. That's normal, she thought, absolutely normal. I'm starting on a great adventure.

Entering her office, she hung up her coat and walked into the centre of the room, looking around, and she couldn't help thinking about those three men who had occupied this office before her … Her great-grandfather Edward Deravenel, her grandfather Henry Turner, and her father, Harry Turner, from whom she had learned so much. Men of honour, integrity and
brilliance. She felt as if they were here in this room with her, felt their presence, their spirit … they were wishing her well …

Walking across the floor, she sat down at the desk. This was the beginning of a new life.

I was born for this. To be here at Deravenels on this very day.
Monday, November twenty-fifth, 1996. To take over. To run it
properly, to bring it through its current crisis, to bring it back
to life. I must not be afraid. Not of anyone or anything. I must
be determined, disciplined, dedicated, diligent, and devoted. I
must think of nothing else but Deravenels. It is mine now and
I must make it strong again. And I will
.

I have two men on whom I know I can rely, whom I trust
with my life – Cecil Williams and Robin Dunley. We will be
the triumvirate that runs Deravenels and we will bring it back
to its former glory, as it was in my father's day. I know that I
have enemies within this company, those who were devoted to
my half-sister Mary and who will want to continue with her
policies. But this cannot be. She damaged the company, and her
ideas have taken their toll. Those people will have to go. There
will have to be a clean sweep. That is what Kat said to me last
night: she called me the new broom that sweeps clean. She loves
these quaint old sayings, and they're never far from her tongue.
She manages to make me laugh when I'm gloomy or not feeling
well, those times when no one else can get through to me. My
devoted Kat, so special to me
.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened immediately to admit Cecil Williams, who strode in saying, ‘Good morning, Elizabeth. You're here early.'

‘To catch the worms,' Elizabeth said, using one of Kat's old-fashioned sayings. ‘And it's certainly a memorable day, isn't it, Cecil?'

‘Indeed it is.' He sat down in one of the chairs on the other side of her desk, glancing at the old map hanging on the wall behind her. ‘I'm happy to see
that
back in its proper place. Do you know, I remember it from my childhood, when my father worked for Henry Turner, your grandfather.'

‘I'll never know why Mary had it removed,' Elizabeth remarked. ‘But then I'll never understand some of the other things she did when
she
sat in this office. Here's the bank transfer.' She took the piece of paper out of her briefcase. ‘Robin wants me to show it to you, then take it home.' She handed it to him.

‘Good idea,' Cecil remarked, and looked down at the transfer, pursing his lips. He lifted his head, stared at her. ‘I can't be sure until I look into it, but I think these might have been funds she transferred from her personal bank account.'

‘It's still
my
money, whichever account it came from,' Elizabeth announced, her tone brisk. ‘Anything and everything she had was inherited from our father and therefore it was mine as well as hers. And she had no right to give it away.' Leaning forward over the desk, her expression intent, purposeful, she asked, ‘Can we get the fifty million euros back?'

‘To be honest, I don't know, Elizabeth. I have to go through every single file Mary kept, and the books, and hopefully I will find the relative documents –'

‘If there are any,' she interrupted peremptorily.

‘Only too true. I'm afraid there might not be. After the meeting I'll start digging. And by the way, I've decided to bring in an outside firm of auditors. I'm sure you'll agree that this is absolutely necessary.'

‘It certainly is. I think we should get as much information as we can, and as quickly as possible, in order to make the right moves.'

Cecil nodded. ‘And which particular moves are you thinking about?'

‘Sweeping clean, Cecil. I've been considering that for days, and I believe we have to let five hundred people go, globally.'

‘
Five hundred
. In one fell swoop?'

‘Not necessarily all at once, no, but there's a lot of dead wood at Deravenels. I knew that when I was working here and Robin has confirmed it. It's people who should be retired. Mostly.' She frowned. ‘You seem surprised. Don't you like the idea?'

‘I feel the same as you do, Elizabeth, but we must be careful. I don't want to create a stir in the City. There are those who might think we're in great trouble. Sacking a lot of employees all at once tends to make people nervous, and they end up thinking the worst.'

‘I realize that we should do it in the best way, the nicest way. We don't want to provoke gossip. Early retirement will appeal to many.' Elizabeth paused, and there was a momentary hesitation before she added, ‘We have to cull the offices around the world as well, don't you think?'

‘I do,' Cecil replied without hesitation. ‘We only touched on it briefly last week, but I'm well aware we're top-heavy with staff. Maybe I'll put Sydney Payne to work on that particular problem. He's such a marvellous diplomat, and it's a situation that's going to need careful handling. As I just said, Deravenels cannot look weak, at risk, in danger of going under.'

‘Yes, I understand. Last Thursday, when we were driving back to town, you said Deravenels needs an infusion of money. Where do you plan to get it from, Cecil? Or haven't you thought that through yet?'

‘I have. Partially, at least. I think we should attempt to get all those euros back from Philip Alvarez. And I would like to sell off certain parcels of our real estate, but we can go over those points this afternoon in more detail, if you wish.'

‘I'd like that. But I just wanted to say this … I could give Deravenels some money.'

‘
Never
.' Aghast, he gaped at her. ‘I will never permit you to give Deravenels money, not ever, Elizabeth. Although there might be a moment in time when you could
lend
them money. Or buy somebody's shares.
But give?
Not on your life. That's absolutely a no-no. I would never agree to such a rash move on your part. Now, here's the list of board members, which you can look at whenever you have a moment. Don't forget, the board meeting is not for
two
weeks.'

‘Any changes about this morning's meeting?' Elizabeth asked, settling back in her chair.

‘No. All of those invited are coming.'

‘I wasn't planning to invite any of them to lunch. Were you?' Elizabeth murmured.

‘No, I'm afraid not. There's far too much work,' Cecil pointed out. ‘This is my first day back in almost five years. I have a feeling I've a lot of catching up to do.'

Once she was alone, Elizabeth put the bank transfer back in her briefcase, and then picked up the list of board members which Cecil had left with her. Studying it carefully, she wondered whom she could get rid of easily. Three names stood out because those board members were old, and wouldn't or couldn't put up a resistance to her. Then there were two other men whom she knew did not like her, were not of her ilk, and so they would
have
to go. ‘How do I get them off the board?' she muttered to herself, and glanced at the door.

There were several hard raps; it swung open and Robert Dunley hurried inside, smiling broadly, and carrying a bowl of flowers – red roses surrounded by white roses and green leaves.

‘Personal delivery, Miss Turner,' Robert said, walking across
to the coffee table, where he put the vase in the centre. ‘The red rose of the Turners and the white rose of the Deravenels,' he remarked, and added, ‘Top o' the mornin' to you, me darlin'.'

‘Robin, good morning! Thank you so much. The flowers are beautiful.' As she was speaking she stood up and walked over to him, gave him a big hug, clinging to him.

‘I just popped in to wish you luck,' he said and hugged her back, holding her for a moment too long.

‘I showed Cecil the bank transfer,' Elizabeth said, after they had stepped apart. Turning, walking over to her desk, she explained, ‘He thinks it might have been taken from Mary's personal account.'

‘Damnation!' Robert exclaimed. ‘If that's the case, Philip Alvarez will say it was a wedding gift, or some such thing, and it will be harder for us to get it back. I hope it's company money.'

‘Actually, it's my money,' Elizabeth pointed out in the same businesslike tone she had used with Cecil Williams. ‘And I promise you I'm going to get it back from that terrible man, no matter what.'

Robert stood in the middle of the office staring at her. The set of her mouth, the tough glint in her grey-black eyes telegraphed to him her determination to get her own way, and he remembered how, over the years, he had detected a hint of ruthlessness in her. But perhaps there was more than a hint.

She asked, ‘Why are you staring at me like that, Robin? Do you think I'm sounding too tough? Is that it?'

‘No, not at all,' he replied, truthfully. ‘I believe you
should
be tough, and, if necessary, ruthless, in this particular situation. I've been thinking about Philip Alvarez, and I'm going to find out exactly what's happening with that real estate company of his. I want to know how the development in Marbella has proceeded. I
must
find out everything I can about it.'

‘That's a good idea, yes. And if necessary, you must go to Spain and be my “two eyes”, Robin.'

‘Let me do the research first.'

‘What exactly was his company building in Marbella?' Elizabeth gave him a sharp look.

‘Villas, a golf club, polo grounds. It was to be a gated community, like those in America,' he explained. ‘Philip wanted me and Ambrose to go, to look over the polo grounds, the plans for the stables, and all of the things pertaining to horses, in fact.'

‘I see. If he won't give the money back we'll just have to go after the development. Perhaps we could make it a viable entity, especially if we added a spa. They are big moneymakers these days, and they are growing in popularity.'