The Ravenscar Dynasty (37 page)

‘I am happy to announce that we are almost ready
to confront the Grants and their gang, and to bring them down. At long last,' Neville said. ‘After sixty years of ruling the roost at Deravenels they will be hounded out of office.'

‘I do sincerely hope God is listening to you, Neville,' Edward remarked, staring hard at his cousin. ‘Because whilst I believe we should strike them soon, I do want
us
to win.'

‘Oh, we will win,' Neville assured him, with a bright, confident smile. ‘Finnister has everything ready.' Neville glanced questioningly at the private investigator, who nodded and stood up.

‘I have now finished all of my work. The records from the asylums have been studied by numerous doctors, and all of them believe the records do indicate that Henry Grant is an ill man, suffering from dementia. There is absolutely no problem regarding my two colleagues, the thespians, who have already ingratiated themselves with Beaufield, Cliff and Dever, the three directors of Deravenels with unsavoury private lives. They
can
be blackmailed, I'm positive of that. Many of my other operatives have been spreading rumours about the Grants, rumours that have taken hold and paint them in a bad light. Yes, we are ready.' Amos sat down and smiled as the others applauded him. ‘Thank you,' he acknowledged.

Neville said, ‘I think you have something to say now, Oliveri, do you not?'

‘I certainly do,' Alfredo answered and rose. ‘Over the last few weeks I have kept you all informed about my old friend David Westmouth, and the situation in India. He has been working for us. I have received much
documentation from him, which reveals the massive theft, and skimming, at our mines there. Westmouth is already on the high seas, en route to England, and he is bringing more evidence with him.'

‘When will he arrive?' Edward asked eagerly, leaning forward.

‘Within the next ten days,' Alfredo answered. ‘And as you know, Beaufield, Cliff and Dever are implicated in some of the stealing that has gone on in India, apart from their scurrilous behaviour which Amos discovered.'

‘So they are doubly condemned,' Edward murmured. ‘I have good news to report, in that I have discovered I have many friends within the company these days, all of whom can't wait to see the last of the Grants. We can rely on their unanimous support.'

‘Let us proceed into lunch, gentlemen,' Neville announced with a wide smile. ‘I think we can celebrate, toast each other in anticipation of our success. Because I know we cannot fail.'

Vicky glanced at herself in the dressing-table mirror, adjusted her hat slightly, and then left her bedroom. As she climbed the staircase to the third floor, now known as the nursery floor, she reminded herself not to forget the envelope Stephen had given her before leaving this morning. It was a bank draft for Haddon House, a gift from them to Fenella, in appreciation of all she had done in the matter of Rose's adoption.

As Vicky went into the playroom, Rose looked up and broke into smiles when she saw her. She jumped off the chair and ran across the floor, her little face shining with happiness.

Bending down, Vicky hugged her, then taking her hand she led her back to the table where she had been drawing pictures with a crayon in a drawing book.

‘Where yer goin” the child asked glumly, eyeing Vicky, a troubled look in her clear blue eyes at the sight of Vicky all dressed up.

‘To see Lady Fenella,' Vicky replied. ‘I am going to have lunch with her.'

‘Me come?' she asked eagerly, instantly smiling. ‘Fenella nice leidy.'

‘Yes, she is, and she loves you, Rose, but it's not possible today. I will take you to see her very soon. Please don't worry, darling, I won't be gone for very long.'

Rose nodded her understanding, but her body had tensed, and that apprehensive expression Vicky had come to know so well now flickered on her face. She always became upset and worried when Vicky went out.

‘I promise I will be back in time to have tea with you,' Vicky said, smiling reassuringly, squeezing the child's hand. ‘Frances will look after you.' A frown brought Vicky's eyebrows together in a jagged line as she scrutinized the child. She was suddenly concerned. ‘You
do
like Frances, don't you?'

‘Yeah.' Rose leaned back in the chair, and bit her lip, then asked in a low tone, ‘I live 'ere wiv yer fer ever?'

‘Of course you will! I keep telling you that this is now your home, and it always will be, Rose.
Forever
. Until you're grown up at any rate, and then you can do whatever you wish.' Leaning across the table, she added, ‘Don't you remember, darling, I told you that Stephen and I have adopted you?'

‘Wot's it mean?' Rose asked, her puzzlement apparent, her eyes growing huge in her face.

‘It means that
you
are
our
little girl. You belong to us, and we belong to you, and nobody can take you away from us. We are your parents.' When she saw that Rose did not quite understand what this meant, she explained, ‘We are…your mother and father.'

A wide smile spread across the child's face. ‘Yer me muvver?'

‘Now I am, yes, yes,
I am
. But I wouldn't want you to ever forget your first mother…
Mam
.'

Sliding off the chair, Rose ran across the floor to her bedroom and went inside. When she came to the bedside chest she opened the top drawer, took out the photograph and the prayer book which had been amongst her treasures in the cloth bag.

Vicky had followed her, now stood watching her from the doorway, wondering what this was all about.

A split-second later Rose came back to her, pointed to the woman in the photograph, and said, ‘
Mam
…'ere's Mam.' And then she offered Vicky the prayer book. ‘Mam…she gimme it. Mam put summfink in it fer me wiv 'er pen.'

Vicky experienced a sudden rush of excitement on hearing these words, and she held herself very still as she opened the prayer book and looked at the inscription. Out loud she read, ‘To Grace from Mother.'

Rose was smiling and nodding. ‘Yeah. Mam put it in.'

‘So this is
your
book? Not Mam's book?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Then your name must be…
Grace
.'

‘Yeah, yeah.'

‘
You
are Grace?'

‘Yeah, I jest tells yer that.
Me
.' She patted her chest. ‘Me is Grace.'

Several hours later Vicky was recounting the story of the prayer book to Fenella and Lily. The three women
were lunching together in Fenella's summer dining room which opened onto the garden of her house in Mayfair. White wallpaper patterned with green ivy leaves, a plethora of flowering plants and white-painted furniture made the room an extension of the garden. The overall effect was charming, light and airy.

‘I wonder why she never told us her name was Grace before now?' Fenella murmured in a puzzled voice, frowning.

‘I can't know for certain, obviously,' Vicky answered, ‘but I do have several thoughts about that. When we first questioned her about her name, she told us her mother called her
liddle rosebud
, and I think that's the name that stayed in her mind after her mother died. Assuming she
is
dead, of course. I have a feeling that the name Grace is associated with her past. Another time, another place, not London at all.'

‘Why do you say that?' Lily asked at once, sounding perplexed.

‘Because I am fairly certain she and her mother lived near the sea. When Stephen and I took her to Stonehurst a couple of weeks ago she was so happy when we went to Romney Marsh. The first thing she did when we were drawing close to the sea and the beach was to sit down, take off her shoes and her stockings. She wants to go paddling, she announced. When I questioned her about this she literally
glowed
when she told me she had done that with Mam. She also wanted to look for seashells, became excited when she found a strand of seaweed. All in all it was a very happy weekend for her. Another thought of mine is that she must have been in stunned shock when her mother died and she was thrown out
onto the streets. It's perfectly obvious she was
still
in shock when Amos found her.' Vicky paused, took a sip of water, and went on, ‘Fenella, I'm positive your friend Dr Juno Newman would agree with me. Shock causes terrible problems for adults, never mind children. I'm sure it's worse for them.
Liddle rosebud
is what she's clung to because it is associated in her mind with her
mother
and
now
, rather than the past.'

‘So where do you think she and her mother lived by the sea?' Lily asked, putting down her soup spoon, staring at Vicky.

‘I'm sure they lived near the sea in the north, more than likely Yorkshire,' Vicky responded, her voice full of confidence.

‘Because she uses the name Mam, rather than Mum or Mother?' Fenella raised a brow quizzically.

‘Yes.'

‘But you've told me she has such a Cockney accent,' Lily reminded Vicky.

‘Not all of the time, I've noticed,' Vicky swiftly replied. ‘Sometimes she says yes instead of
yeah, isn't
instead of
ain't
, and so on. She was full of tension when Amos found her in the cart and brought her to Haddon House, as you well know, Fenella. Stephen thinks that she has begun to relax, to feel safe with us, and that she's changing in many of the things she says, the way she speaks.'

‘That makes sense,' Fenella said. ‘But I am still curious, nevertheless.'

‘Well, she says thank you, rather than
fank
, and the Cockney F is being replaced with TH, with certain words. But the shock aside, she's grieving for her mother,
I'm sure. I've found her crying at different times, and when I ask her what's wrong she just says “
Mam
”, in a desperate little voice, and comes into my arms for comfort, sobbing.'

‘Oh that poor child,' Lily exclaimed. ‘I would like to know who the fiend is who threw her out on the streets of Whitechapel. I'd have him horse-whipped.'

‘So would I,' Fenella agreed, then shook her head. ‘It's odd, isn't it, Vicky, that we all thought the prayer book belonged to her mother and that it was her mother who was called Grace.'

‘Yes, but Rose was so specific this morning, very sure when she said it was
her
prayer book, that her mother had given it to her, and that she was Grace.'

‘What shall we call her?' Fenella now wondered out loud, looking across at Vicky, then at Lily. ‘Rose or Grace?'

‘I prefer to call her by what is obviously her real name…Grace,' Vicky said. ‘But I could ask
her
, and we can always attach the name Rose anyway.'

‘So she would be Grace Rose Forth,' Lily said, smiling. ‘That sounds rather nice. Anyway, I can't wait to meet her. I'm so sorry I haven't been well enough to come for tea as you've suggested several times, Vicky darling.'

‘You
are
feeling better, aren't you?' Vicky peered at her dearest friend. ‘There's nothing wrong with your pregnancy, is there, Lily?'

‘No, I'm in good health really, it's just the ghastly morning sickness sometimes, it gets me down.' She smiled. ‘Ned fusses so much about me. Frankly, I'm glad he's gone to Ravenscar with Will.'

‘They're going to stay up there through Whitsuntide,'
Vicky said. ‘Will has really been looking forward to it.' A sudden smile illuminated her face with radiance, and she continued, ‘I rather think there is a new lady in his life, and that she lives in Yorkshire.'

‘Oh who is it, do tell us,' Lily cajoled, her eyes sparkling, filled with interest.

‘I would if I knew, but I don't have a name, not yet at least. However, he seems very happy, and I've never seen my brother looking so well, so handsome.'

‘As usual, Ned hasn't said a word to me about it, he's very close-mouthed,' Lily pointed out. ‘He never discusses anyone's business. Very discreet, my Ned.'

Fenella laughed. ‘That may be so, but I do think most men gossip as much as women.'

She rang the bell for the butler as she spoke and within minutes the soup bowls had been removed and the fish served.

The three friends chatted enthusiastically about various matters during lunch, but the most important topic they addressed was improving Haddon House. Their aim was to find ways to better help those women less fortunate than they.

The two women who walked down the steps of the tall house in Curzon Street were good looking, fashionable, and elegantly dressed. Because of their stunning appearance many heads turned, especially those of the opposite sex, as they glided forward across the pavement to the open carriage waiting in the street.

Vicky was dressed in a silver-grey silk taffeta dress with a tight waist and long flowing skirt, topped by a matching jacket trimmed with pale-green ric-rac. On her head she wore a cartwheel hat of grey leghorn which had pale green and grey osprey feathers fastened to the wide brim.

Lily was in her favourite pale blue. Her loose-fitting silk dress had a matching capelet that fell to her hips, and helped to conceal her condition. Her hat was an unusual tricorn shape made of pale blue silk, with white ostrich plumes attached at one side, and she wore it with great panache, as stylish as she always was.

The driver of the carriage, Lily's favourite landau, helped her in first, and then Vicky followed. The two women sat together in the low-slung carriage with its low half doors,
spreading out their gowns, making themselves comfortable.

The landau was open to the world, its double, soft, folding tops at the front and back folded down on this beautiful May afternoon. One of the reasons Lily loved this luxury carriage, which was only ever used in the city, was because its low shell provided great visibility, showed off the occupants. It was often referred to as a women's carriage since their clothes were displayed to great advantage.

Once Robin, the driver, had climbed up onto his bench just above the two horses, Lily said, ‘We are taking Mrs Forth home to Kensington, but let us drive through Hyde Park, it's such lovely weather.'

‘Right-o, ma'am,' Robin responded, made a clicking sound with his tongue, and set off up Curzon Street making for Park Lane.

Lily turned to Vicky and said, ‘Perhaps I'll come in for tea. If that's all right?'

‘Oh Lily, darling, that's wonderful!' Vicky exclaimed. ‘You know how much I've wanted you to meet Rose…goodness me, I'll have to get used to calling her Grace, won't I?'

Laughing, Lily nodded. ‘Yes, I think you will. On the other hand, she might wish to remain Rose, it's such a pretty name.' Lily eyed her best friend carefully, dropped her voice, and added, ‘I'm so glad you and Stephen adopted her…you might even become pregnant now…that often happens, you know.'

Vicky smiled but made no comment.

‘It was very generous of you both to give Fenella a
thousand pounds for Haddon House. She was thrilled,' Lily murmured.

‘We wanted to help, and she can make good use of the money, as you're well aware. You've been generous yourself these last three years, Lily, have given her rather a lot of money.'

‘It's for an important, worthy cause, and I have so much, so many good things in my life. I
have
to give back, I just can't be any other way. When I think of those poor women and the straits they're in I go cold inside.'

‘I do, too. Their plight makes me wonder what Grace's mother went through. She was obviously living with some man who probably mistreated her.'

‘I agree, and I'm coming round to your idea that Grace and her mother did come from the north.'

‘Look, Fenella spotted the child's use of the word Mam for Mother immediately, because she comes from Yorkshire. As you well know, their family seat is just outside Ripon, and I was also instantly aware of it because I've spent so much time at Ravenscar with Will and the Deravenels.'

‘Yes, I know, and I suppose she must have picked up the Cockney accent in the last couple of years, don't you think?'

‘It's more than likely—' Vicky broke off, turned to Lily and said, ‘Doesn't Hyde Park look pretty today? I can't wait to drive through it.'

‘I knew you'd enjoy it.' Leaning forward slightly, Lily said to the driver, ‘Where are you going to enter the park, Robin?'

‘At the top of Park Lane, Mrs Overton. I thought you'd get to see a bit more of it that way.'

‘Thank you, that's a splendid idea.'

The two women went on chatting about Grace Rose, as Lily had suddenly started to call her, and also touched on the child she herself was carrying. ‘I'm glad I have purchased the house near you in Kent, Vicky. It will be a lovely, comfortable home for us, for me and the baby, and if Ned wants to come and stay sometimes he can. But as I've told him many times, there's no pressure.'

‘I know he wants to be involved.'

‘Did he tell you that, Vicky?' Lily asked, her eyes sparkling, her face eager.

‘No, he didn't, but I can see how much he cares for you, cossets you, is solicitous of your well-being, Lily. I've been surprised actually, because I always thought he would just…abandon you, let you get on with it all by yourself.'

Lily laughed out loud. ‘As a matter of fact, so did I! And I didn't care, I wasn't worried about myself, or the baby. As you know, I'm perfectly safe, because of my late husbands, and the money they both left me. But I can't say I'm not glad Ned's happy about the baby, because I am. Obviously he means to be part of our lives. And, before you remind me yet again, I know he won't marry me. He can't, and I don't want him to.' Eyeing Vicky, Lily now murmured, ‘You think of him as the great womanizer, don't you?'

‘Yes, don't you?' Vicky gave her an intent look, frowning slightly.

‘Of course I do. He's always been a womanizer, and he always will be,' Lily answered. ‘Women are his drug, he's addicted to them.' Suddenly her laughter broke out
again, and leaning closer to her dearest friend, she whispered, ‘He once told me that he had been seduced by a young married woman when he was
thirteen
, and that he'd never looked back.'

Vicky couldn't help but join in Lily's laughter, and eventually, as she calmed herself, she said, ‘Well, one cannot say that he's not
honest
.'

‘Always, and too honest sometimes,' Lily shot back.

The two women fell silent, and shortly after this the carriage entered Hyde Park, the dappled grey horses trotting forward at an easy, gentle pace.

The trees were in bloom, leafy green bowers filled with sunlight above their heads, and the shrubs and bushes were alive with colour, their flowers bursting into bloom. It was the beginning of the last week of May, and spring was truly full blown in this year of 1904.

Lily felt exceptionally happy this afternoon. The morning sickness seemed to have subsided in the last couple of days, and she was really feeling very well at the moment. Ned had been particularly attentive, and very loving before going to Yorkshire for Whitsuntide.

It seemed to her that all was well with the world. Although she had not told Vicky or anyone else, Lily had purchased a lovely and rather compact house in South Audley Street, and fully intended to live in it part of the time.

Glancing around, she noticed a number of children playing on the grass. Some were rolling hoops, others were throwing balls to each other, and they all seemed to be so happy and carefree. There was nothing like the frolicking of children to cheer the spirits.

A few women were taking an afternoon stroll, walking along in pairs; there were several nannies out, pushing large perambulators in front of them; and she spotted several courting couples arm-in-arm, moving slowly under the trees.

Otherwise there was not much other traffic in the park today, only a couple of carriages in the distance. How tranquil it was, this little green haven in the middle of the largest and most important city in the world.

‘Good Lord!' Vicky exclaimed shrilly. ‘What's going on ahead of us? Look at the rider on that big charcoal stallion! Oh my God, he can't control the horse! It seems to be having some sort of a fit, stamping its hooves and rearing. Look now, Lily. Look how he is rearing up on his hind legs.'

‘I can't see!' Lily craned her neck even more, shuddered involuntarily and cried to her driver, ‘Robin! Please pay attention to that horse up ahead. There's something wrong with it. Oh my God, it's bolted. It's heading this way, with the rider clinging on for dear life!'

Vicky was staring ahead, keeping her eyes pinned on the rider and the horse, her heart in her mouth. The man was endeavouring to restrain the stallion, but it appeared to be beyond him. The horse was coming towards them, hell bent for leather, throwing its head backwards, snorting, its nostrils flaring. There was foam on its wide mouth; it bared its big white teeth. The rider seemed panicked, and as he drew closer to their carriage Vicky noticed that he was handsome in a fleshy way, with dark eyes and hair, and a long scar on one cheek. He looked foreign to her. He stared at her for a brief moment through
hard eyes. He glanced longer at Lily, Vicky thought. She felt herself recoil, shivering.

‘Robin, try to calm the greys!' Vicky shouted.

‘Stop moving! Stop!' Lily screamed. ‘For God's sake stop the carriage moving, Robin. There's going to be an accident.'

‘I can't curb them, Mrs Overton,' Robin shouted back over his shoulder, every muscle straining as he pulled on the reins.

Everyone had seen the horse and rider, and children were brought onto the grass, were running under the trees, away from the main avenue which cut through the park.

Suddenly the horse and rider were upon them, only a few feet away from the landau. The great horse reared up on its back legs, snorting and tossing its head again, now immediately in front of the greys. They instantly reacted, stamping their feet. And then they bolted.

They were moving too fast now, Lily understood that at once. Robin was struggling, pulling on the reins but the horses and the landau had taken off at high speed. The animals had been totally frightened by the stallion and were out of control.

It seemed to Vicky that everything happened very fast. Lily was shouting orders, as was she; Robin was doing his best to bring the greys to a halt, but with no success. Suddenly the horses increased their pace. Vicky clung to the side of the carriage, as did Lily. And then it happened. The carriage tipped over.

Vicky felt herself flying up out of her seat and being thrown sideways. She screamed. A moment later she was lying on the grass at the side of the avenue, stunned.

Lily had tried to grab hold of Vicky with no success,
and had been thrown out of the carriage as well; she herself was now sprawled on the ground, and a portion of the landau was covering her lower body, pinning her down.

Pandemonium broke out.

People were hurrying to them.

Robin, bathed in perspiration, his face stricken, was trying to reach Lily, who was partially on the grass, partially on the road.

Groaning, swallowing, Vicky opened her eyes and immediately saw horses' hooves and she recoiled at once, crying out, thinking it was the wild stallion.

‘It's Mrs Forth, isn't it? Stephen Forth's wife?' a cultured voice was asking her.

Vicky raised her eyes, saw a man dressed in proper English riding clothes; he was mounted on a roan, looking down at her through worried eyes.

She nodded, and whispered, ‘Yes.'

‘My name is Horace Bainbridge, Stephen and I belong to the same club. I'm sure you're hurt. Do you think you are, Mrs Forth? You must be.'

‘I don't know,' Vicky responded, her voice raspy. ‘My leg hurts. It could be broken.' Glancing towards Lily, she went on urgently, ‘
Please
. Go and help my friend, help her driver. He's trying to lift the carriage off her body.'

‘Certainly I will, at once. And I shall telephone your husband at the bank. Ah, I see policemen coming. I shall tell them ambulances are required.'

‘Thank you,' Vicky whispered.

The man on the horse had trotted off; she could see him talking to the police. Now he was coming back, heading for the landau to help Robin.

Vicky pushed herself up on her elbows, began to drag herself across the grass to Lily. As she drew closer her throat tightened; dread flooded through her. Finally she reached her friend, took hold of her hand, held it tightly in hers.

She could see Lily better now. The images hurt her eyes…the blue tricorn hat lying on the ground…the white ostrich feathers fluttering in the breeze…Lily's white face…oh so very white. And the blood…so much blood…staining the pale blue silk…