Heirs of Ravenscar (48 page)

‘I'
m not sure why you persist in living here, Catherine,' Mary Turner Brandt said, eyeing her sister-in-law curiously. ‘Harry would have bought you a much nicer house, I feel certain of that.'

Catherine nodded, was swift to say, ‘Oh, I know he would, Mary. In fact, he never stops offering to buy me one – a mansion if I want – but I like my little house. It's cosy. And it's mine.'

‘I know you bought it yourself,' Mary answered, smiling. ‘And that's important to you.' She had always liked her sister-in-law, cared for her quite deeply, in fact. But she also understood her brother Harry only too well, was fully aware what motivated him, and she certainly sympathized with him. Also, she had never been able to understand why a woman would want to hang on to a man who no longer wanted her. That is why Catherine puzzled her so much. But she came to tea on a regular basis, because she knew how lonely Catherine was.

Now, taking a deep breath, Mary asked, ‘Why don't you divorce Harry? You've been separated for well over seven years now, Catherine, and surely you know he's not coming back to you. I'm sorry to say that, but I know it's the truth.'

‘It probably is. But I'm a Roman Catholic, as indeed you are. Surely you, of all people, understand me, understand what I'm about.'

‘I do, yes … but then, I don't.' Mary frowned, her light blue eyes filled with puzzlement. ‘And I must admit, I don't really quite understand why you would want to cling to a man who obviously doesn't wish to be married to you anymore. I think my pride would get in the way. Doesn't yours?' she finished softly.

‘My religion comes before my pride,' Catherine answered in a cool voice.

How self-satisfied, how pious she sounds, Mary thought. Charles was right. Last night, when he had returned from Yorkshire, he had told her that Catherine was turning herself into a martyr. She must explain to her husband that her sister-in-law was becoming a self-satisfied martyr, and she was apparently enjoying the role.

‘Harry needs an heir,' Mary murmured, staring across the coffee table at Catherine, then taking a sip of her tea. ‘He's desperate for an heir, you know that. He's thinking of Deravenels, and that's something I don't believe even you need to be reminded about.'

‘No, I don't, of course not. But he has an heir already. He has our daughter Mary. Your namesake. She can work at Deravenels, any time he'll let her. She'll soon be old enough, she's already seventeen going on eighteen. And don't tell me a woman can't take over and run the company, because your grandfather Edward Deravenel made that possible.'

‘I can't deny that.' Mary felt a sudden sense of utter defeat. Catherine was like a stone wall. And
she
was wasting
her breath. She sat back on the sofa and glanced around the sitting room of the mews house. It was charming, beautifully decorated and not as small as it looked from the outside. Mary knew why Catherine liked it. This was a perfect house for two people. Thinking of her niece, she asked, ‘How is Mary, by the way? It seems ages since we've seen her.'

‘She's very well, but she misses her father.' Catherine leaned forward, her face eager, ‘Do you think Harry will come over for tea with us this weekend, Mary? He usually does pay a visit when it's his birthday. Oh, and is he having a party? It
is
his fortieth.'

Taken by surprise, Mary moved her position on the sofa, and thought quickly. ‘I haven't heard mention of a party,' she said, ‘and I don't know if he will come over to see you, darling. Harry's not one to be confiding his plans to his little sister.' She forced a laugh. ‘He's like our father, and our grandfather, Edward Deravenel, he puts business first.'

‘You're on his side, aren't you?' Catherine said suddenly, her voice hard.

Mary gaped at her, taken by surprise yet again, and at once she decided to be honest. ‘To a certain extent, yes, I am on his side. I do think you ought to release him, so that he can get married and try to have a male heir.'

‘And you approve of that bitch Anne Bowles, do you?'

‘Whether I approve of her or not is beside the point, Catherine. I just believe my brother should have his freedom after all these years of separation.'

‘I just can't go against my religion.' Harry Turner's wife shook her head, and added even more emphatically, ‘Never. I'll never divorce him.'

As she walked across Eaton Square, Mary Brandt tried to shake off her sense of dismay and frustration. No one could make headway with Catherine; she was incredibly stubborn and old-fashioned. She was also Spanish by birth, and even though she had lived in England from the age of sixteen she was still very foreign in many ways. She was also deeply religious and this was a great issue, her reason for not granting Harry a divorce.

Mary fully realized how her brother must be feeling. Catherine wouldn't budge and her attitude was more than frustrating, it was downright infuriating. No wonder Harry was at his wits' end. He wanted a male heir so badly, and their father's dying words to him had made such an impression on him, and on his mind. She sometimes thought he had been traumatized by their father banging on at him about a male heir even before his deathbed.

Charles had talked him into coming to dinner last night, when they had finally got back from Ravenscar. Apparently the A1 had been a nightmare, the cars bumper to bumper. She had soon detected her brother's despair, and her heart had gone out to him. Harry was such a generous, giving, loving man, and nothing was ever too much trouble for him. He was extremely thoughtful, also kind to everyone.

After he had gone home to the house in Berkeley Square, where they had spent part of their childhood, and where he now lived alone, Charles had carefully explained Harry's current state of mind.

It wasn't very good, she had decided, once Charles had finished speaking.

And so today, of her own accord, she had gone to see Catherine, hoping to break through that stone wall, but she had not succeeded. She wondered now if anyone ever would.

Deep down, she tended to agree that Anne Bowles, who had her hooks into Harry, was a bit of a bitch. But knowing
that did not solve anything. Harry wanted Anne. He was in her thrall, absolutely mesmerized by her, so Charles said. He just wasn't going to give her up, as far as she could ascertain.

Seemingly, on their drive to London, Charles had told him to dump both women and move on, but had Harry listened? And would he do it? She did not know.

Mary loved her brother. And there was nothing worse than being in a bad marriage, one that was unhappy, with a partner who was intolerable. She knew that only too well.

Her first marriage had been ghastly. Antoine had been too old for her, and a difficult man, and then he had fallen sick. And she had fallen in love. Deeply, truly in love. With Charles Brandt, when he had come to Paris on Deravenel business. The funny thing was, she had known Charles all of her life, because he had been Harry's friend since childhood. It was only when he had arrived in Paris and had taken her to lunch at the Ritz in the Place Vendôme that she had found herself shaking all over and limp with desire for him.

Rather fortuitously, Antoine Delacroix, her first husband, had suddenly died, and she was suddenly free – happily, crazily free. Free to marry the man she had known forever yet had not known at all: Charles Brandt, with whom she was sleeping before her husband's very convenient death, the man she was utterly and completely rapturous about. She had been lucky, very lucky indeed. They had two daughters, and they were the happiest couple she knew.

After leaving Catherine's mews house, just behind Eaton Square, Mary had intended to go to Harvey Nichols to buy summer clothes for their trip to France. Now she changed her mind, and stood on the edge of the pavement in the square, hailing a cab. One came to a standstill within a moment, and she jumped in, gave the cabbie her address in Chelsea. To hell with shopping, she wanted to get home, to
be there when Charles arrived. He disliked coming back to an empty house.

‘I want a divorce, and I want it now,' Harry Turner said, looking across the desk at his solicitor, Thomas Wolsen. Harry's eyes were blue ice and his mouth was tightly set, almost in a grimace, and an air of acute impatience surrounded him.

For twenty-three years, Thomas Wolsen had been Harry's solicitor, advising him on all matters, some of which were not even to do with the law, and over the years he had come to look upon Harry as a son. Steepling his fingers, gazing over them at Harry, Thomas finally said in a gentle tone, ‘I would do anything in this world for you, and I think you know that. I'd even lay down my life for you, Harry. But not even for you can I change the law, or the rules of the Roman Catholic Church.'

Harry sat back in his chair glowering, saying nothing.

Thomas did the same, but his expression remained concerned and genial.

The two men were in Thomas's law offices in Upper Grosvenor Street, and for the last twenty minutes they had been discussing various legal matters. The atmosphere had been warm, cordial as it usually was. But now that Harry had broached divorce the atmosphere instantly changed, became considerably cooler. Thomas knew that Harry was batting his head against a brick wall; however, Harry would not admit that. Not for one moment.

Harry suddenly said swiftly, his voice rising an octave, ‘There must be
something
we can do. Can't we pay somebody? Bribe somebody?'

‘There is no one, Harry.'

‘Why can't
I
get a divorce from Catherine? We've been separated for years.'

‘Because
you
deserted
her
, not vice versa. Now,
she
could divorce
you
, on the grounds of desertion, but she doesn't want to do so. Therefore, we are at an impasse.'

‘Perhaps I could talk her into it.'

‘Harry, be sensible. The Catholic Church doesn't recognize divorce, and if she becomes a divorced woman she will be excommunicated, unable to take Holy Communion. Since she is extremely devout, she won't put herself in this position. I can tell you that quite categorically. I've known her for years, and she will not in any way compromise her faith.'

‘She can have anything of mine, Thomas, anything at all she wants.
Money
. As much as her heart desires. She can even have Waverley Court. Not the Berkeley Square house, but the one in Kent, yes. A
divorce
… that's what I must have, and
at any price.
Just help me to get it.'

‘
Divorce at any price
. Quite a phrase, Harry.' Thomas shook his head. ‘And one some solicitors would be gratified to hear … especially those on the other side. But I think I must be a little more
cagey
, shall we say? I can't use it indiscriminately, especially when in discussion with Catherine's lawyers.'

‘Do what you can. Come up with something, Thomas!' Harry exclaimed and rose, crossed the room. He turned around when he reached the door. ‘Time is running out for me …' He gave Thomas a pointed look, added, ‘I must have a divorce … for my own sanity.
NOW
. I want it now, Thomas. Do you hear me?'

Harry didn't wait for a response nor did he even say goodbye; he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Thomas Wolsen stared at it, shaking his head. Then he sat back, ruminating for a few moments, wondering what on earth he could do. In his opinion he would have to produce
a miracle – and with Catherine to deal with, that was an impossibility.

After a few moments, Thomas pressed the intercom and summoned one of his junior partners.

John Upstone walked in immediately and asked, ‘Do you need me, sir?'

Thomas nodded emphatically.

‘I saw Harry Turner leaving, so I've no doubt there is something to discuss … about him.' John's expression was keen, anticipatory.

‘Indeed there is. Harry is harping on about his divorce from Catherine again. He says he wants it now. I emphasize the NOW.'