Heirs of Ravenscar

‘I know it will, you’ve always been very enterprising. But isn’t there anything you can do about the scarring? I mean once your face has properly healed?’

‘Maybe. One of the doctors at the hospital in Hull told me that skin can be grafted, and that there are certain new methods, special treatments being developed. I shall just have to wait until I’ve healed. Perhaps then I can see someone.’

At this point two waiters arrived with trays of food. There were Colchester oysters for Amos and paté for Charlie, which they promptly served, and then brought plates of toast and brown bread.

‘I’m glad we’re having dinner together tonight,’ Charlie remarked at one moment. ‘I couldn’t wait to see you. As long as I’ve known you, you’ve always made me feel tons better. It’s comforting to have a really close friend, someone you can trust.’

‘Yes, it is. And I can say the same for you, Charlie.’

It was after they had finished the main course of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, and were sipping their glasses of St Emilion and relaxing, that Charlie suddenly sat up straighter in the chair.

‘What is it?’ Amos asked, following the direction of his gaze.

‘A friend’s just coming into the restaurant. That officer over there in the entrance. The one on crutches, with those two women and another man. Do you see him?’

Amos nodded.

‘He lost a leg, after he was severely wounded in the third battle of Ypres.’

‘Were you in the trenches with him?’ Amos asked.

‘No, I wasn’t. I didn’t know him then. We first met at the military hospital in Hull, and then again at Chapel Allerton Hospital in Leeds, when I had a problem with my leg. As you can see, they took his, amputated above the knee. I was much luckier, they saved mine. Do you mind if I go and say hello to him?’

‘Yes, go and speak to him, Charlie. I’ll just sit here and enjoy the very good claret you ordered.’

‘Cedric’s a nice chap, and he was very helpful to me.’

Amos frowned. ‘What did you say his name was?’

‘Cedric.’

‘And his last name?’

‘I didn’t say, but it’s Crawford. He’s Major Cedric Crawford. Why do you ask?’

‘I just wondered, that’s all.’

Excusing himself, Charlie walked across the restaurant, intent on speaking to the man with whom he had become good friends in the two hospitals in Yorkshire.

Amos stared after him. He felt as though he had just been hit in the stomach with a brick. Could the major on crutches be none other than the same Cedric Crawford who had lived with Grace Rose’s mother, Tabitha James? And who had abandoned Grace Rose? Who had turned her out into the streets to fend for herself?

He didn’t know. But he certainly aimed to find out.

NINE

As he waited for Charlie to return to the table, Amos glanced around the restaurant. It had filled up as the evening had progressed and there was quite a din … voices, laughter, the clatter of dishes and bottles, the clink of ice … all the sounds of a busy place, in fact.

There was a wonderful festive feeling here tonight and an air of celebration about the other people present who were dining at the Ritz. He noticed many officers with their wives, parents and families; some of them were wounded and his heart went out to those men. His eyes swept around the room once more, and he thought how truly fortunate they were. They were alive, safely home, and Christmas would be a good one for them this year. The world was at peace. But so many had died. Millions. The flower of English youth was gone, a generation wiped out.

Several times he sneaked a glance at Major Cedric Crawford, who was talking animatedly to Charlie. They both looked pleased to see each other.

Amos realized he would have to handle the situation with care and delicacy. He knew full well that men who had lived through similar experiences during a war, and became friends, always bonded, were blood brothers under the skin. And Charlie and Crawford had suffered horrific wounds in the Great War, had been in two hospitals together. There was bound to be an enormous closeness between them; in fact it was quite apparent that indeed there was, from the manner in which they greeted each other with such enthusiasm.

Amos averted his face, glanced towards the window and the view of Green Park, and then spotted Charlie hobbling back to the table.

‘Your friend appears delighted to see you, Charlie,’ Amos remarked as the other man sat down.

‘He was, and I was happy to see him, too. He’s a nice chap, Cedric, and he was always kind to me, very helpful.’

‘I’m glad he was. Tell me, is one of those good-looking women his wife?’

‘No, they’re both his sisters. Rowena, that’s the dark-haired one, is actually Cedric’s twin, and she’s not married. The blonde is the eldest sister. Her name is Daphne. The other man at the table is her husband, Sir Malcolm Holmes, who’s some sort of industrialist.’

‘I’ve heard of him. So Cedric is from a prestigious family, then?’

‘Very much so, Amos.’ Leaning forward Charlie confided, with a huge smile, ‘Cedric is going to be awarded the Victoria Cross. Just imagine that. What an honour … his sister Rowena just told me. She’s very proud.’

‘Well, that’s very impressive indeed. The Victoria Cross is the highest recognition for valour in the face of the enemy that anyone can get. Did you know that?’

Charlie shook his head. ‘I didn’t, but he bloody well deserves it, from what I’ve heard about his actions in the Battle of the Somme, just after Verdun. Saved a lot of his men, took great risks to do so.’

‘So he told you about his feats of bravery, did he?’ Amos’s eyes searched Charlie’s face. He was also wondering if there were two Cedric Crawfords in the world … but it was such an unusual name, wasn’t it? Hardly likely that there would be two of them, although you never knew. Could be there was. No, he thought. Cedric Crawford who had been a guards officer and a gambler before the war surely had to be this man.

Charlie exclaimed, ‘No, no, he wouldn’t boast about his courage, he’s not that sort. No, no. It was a surgeon at the hospital in Hull who mentioned his bravery to me one day. Apparently Cedric arrived at the hospital with quite a reputation as a hero … he got seven of his men out of a trench under heavy bombardment from the Germans, shepherded them to safety, then went back and carried out first one wounded Tommy, and then a second. That was in 1916 … the summer when General Haig sent in British troops to help the French. That first day the British troops were just mowed down … 20,000 dead, Amos, 20,000. And another 40,000 wounded or lost. It was on the second day that Cedric came to the rescue of his men.’

Amos nodded, said nothing, stunned by the size of the losses. It was almost impossible to conceive … 60,000 men either dead or wounded. He sat up straighter and looked at Charlie, who was still talking about Cedric.

‘After that violent summer, he went on to fight at Ypres. Funny thing was, I was at Passchendaele, and so was he, but we didn’t know each other. That was in 1917 … bloody wholesale slaughter it was. Those of us that got out alive, well, we sure as hell must’ve had a guardian angel watching over us.’

Amos could only nod, wondering how on earth he could broach the subject of Cedric Crawford, suggest that he was the man involved with Tabitha James. There were no two ways about it, they certainly sounded like two different men to him. But, in actuality, what did he really know about Cedric Crawford? Not much. He only had a bit of disjointed information from Grace Rose, a little girl who had been four at the time, plus a few comments from a woman who supposedly had been Tabitha’s friend, but was not all that well-informed. Nor had she been worried enough to rescue Tabitha.

‘You’re lost in thought, Amos. You look troubled. What’s wrong?’

Amos stared at the young man for whom he had always had great affection, and wondered where to begin. Clearing his throat, he asked in a casual tone, ‘Is your friend a professional soldier?’

‘I don’t believe so, but he was in the guards at one time. Then he got out, he didn’t say why. He lived in Paris for a bit and then he went to America. You know what, he actually saw me in a show on Broadway, and he remembered me and Maisie, believe it or not. It was a Billy Rose show, a wonderful revue.’

‘Does he like a flutter?’

‘You mean on the ponies? Or in a gambling club?’

‘The latter. Does he?’

‘I think so, but listen here, what’s all this about? Why all the questions about Cedric, Amos?’

I know I can trust him, Amos thought, and said, ‘I’d like to speak to you in confidence.’

‘You know you can. Go on then, what’s in your noggin?’

‘I think your friend Cedric Crawford probably might have known, actually been a friend of, Tabitha James, the real mother of Grace Rose.’

‘Get on with you, Amos, you can’t be serious!’

‘I am. I know it sounds a bit far-fetched, fantastical even, but certainly Tabitha knew a man by that name. Do you think there are two Cedric Crawfords in London?’

‘I don’t know, but I very much doubt it.’ Charlie shook his head. ‘After all, it’s not a name like John Smith, is it?’ He drew closer to Amos. ‘Refresh my memory a bit … I know you found Grace Rose in Whitechapel, in terrible circumstances.’

‘She was living in a cart, I think it might have been a discarded costermonger’s cart, in a cul-de-sac, and she was dressed as a boy.’

‘That’s right! Now I remember, you told me all about it when I came back for the first time with Maisie. You took him to Lady Fenella’s, to Haddon House, and when they washed all the dirt off of him he turned out not to be a him, but a her. How’s she doing?’

‘You’ve got a good memory, Charlie, and she’s doing wonderfully well. But going back to her childhood, when I found her she told me her mother was dead, and then later her mother’s old friend, a woman called Sophie Fox-Lannigan, explained to Lady Fenella that Tabitha James had been living with a man called Cedric Crawford, a guard’s officer and a gambler. And that when she went to see Tabitha one day, she’d disappeared. They all had. It seemed a bit of a mystery to her.’

Charlie frowned, looked suddenly worried. ‘And you want to ask him if it was him, is that it?’

‘Well, yes. You see we just don’t know where Tabitha is buried, and it’s always troubled me, and Lady Fenella. You see, when Grace Rose was four she said her mother was buried in Potters Field, but nobody’s ever believed that, it didn’t sound right. And she isn’t, we checked. It would be nice to know the truth, especially for Grace Rose … that’s all there is to it, I promise you, Charlie.’

‘Do you think he knows?’

‘He might. Then he might not. It’s just possible he moved out, moved on, left Tabitha James before she died.’

Charlie took a deep breath, then blew out air. ‘I wouldn’t want you to upset him, Amos, he’s been through such a bloody lot.’

‘I understand that, and I would never create any problems. But I would like to talk to him, yes. Can you arrange it?’

‘I could, I suppose,’ Charlie answered, sounding reluctant.

‘But will you?’

Charlie nodded. ‘As long as you handle him with kid gloves.’

‘I will, word of honour. And don’t tell him why I want to see him, let’s not alarm the man, make him think I want to blame him about Tabitha. Because I really don’t, I assure you of that.’

‘I can ask him as we’re leaving if he can dine with us tomorrow –’

‘I can’t tomorrow, Charlie,’ Amos interrupted. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m having supper with the Forths, you know, the couple who brought Grace Rose up. But apart from that, I’ve no other commitments, I’m free.’

‘Shall I suggest Friday?’

‘That suits me fine.’

‘And where should we go? Come back here? Or do you have a particular preference?’

‘We can go wherever you want, Charlie, pick any place you like, just so long as you understand I’m doing the inviting and I’m doing the paying.’

Charlie grinned. ‘Let’s have dinner here. It’s nice and convenient for me, and also for Cedric. He lives in Queen Street. With his sister, Rowena.’

‘I’ll book the table when we leave tonight. And remember, let’s keep this nice and easy, Charlie. He mustn’t know why.’

‘Mum’s the word.’

TEN

‘I always know when it’s going to rain,’ Will Hasling said to Alfredo Oliveri. ‘My shoulder gives me hell.’

‘It’s the same for me, my arm feels as if it’s in a vice. Never mind – better to have aching wounds than be kicking up daisies in a foreign cemetery,’ Alfredo pointed out.

Will grinned. ‘Very true.’

The two of them had both suffered minor wounds in the Somme in 1917, and had been shipped home on a hospital ship, then treated at a military hospital in London. As soon as they could, both men had returned to work at Deravenels, and were extremely relieved to be safely back in their old jobs. They had worked with Edward since he had taken over the company in 1904, and were his key executives.

Alfredo paused just before they reached Edward’s office, and put his hand on Will’s arm, stared at him intently. ‘He’s not going to like what you’re about to reveal to him.’

‘You don’t have to tell me, I know that, and I’m going to suggest he deals with everything after Christmas, when George is back in London. Giving his brother a rollicking on the telephone won’t be effective. He’s got to dress George down face to face, don’t you think?’

‘I do,’ Alfredo replied, and sighed. ‘He hasn’t discussed the MacDonald situation at great length with me, but I’m making the assumption he’s a trifle indifferent to the deal.’

‘You’re right, as usual. For him it’s a take it or leave it deal. He’d like to own the liquor company, but if he doesn’t get it he won’t cry.’

‘It struck me earlier that he might have set a trap for his difficult little brother. If George blows the liquor business out of the water he’s in trouble, and most certainly can then be demoted. What say you?’

Will began to laugh. The Italian part of you is certainly quite Machiavellian, Oliveri. I mustn’t forget that.’

Alfredo merely smiled, and walked on down the corridor. He stopped at Edward’s office, knocked, then walked in, followed by Will Hasling.

Edward was hanging up the phone. ‘Morning, you chaps!’ he exclaimed cheerfully when he saw them, an affectionate look crossing his face. He had worried about these two men so much during the war, filled with fear for their safety, and had vowed to cherish them for the rest of their lives when they came back.

‘I know you’ve got to go and see a man about a dog,’ Will began, ‘but I’ve something I need to talk with you about.’

Edward chuckled. ‘I am indeed going to see a man about a dog. Or I was. However, because of my work here today I’ve asked Mrs Shaw to go to Harrods to pick out a Westie for Young Edward, and she agreed to do it.’

Alfredo began to laugh, suddenly realizing the play on an old and very familiar saying. ‘Will you take the dog with you to Yorkshire tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘You can ship it, you know, that’s no problem.’

‘So Mrs Shaw told me, and that is how it will travel … in a van, by road, special delivery for Master Edward Deravenel from Harrods. He’ll love it because he’ll feel very important.’ Leaning forward, he now asked, ‘So, Will, why are you here?’ He glanced at Alfredo. ‘And you, Oliveri? You’re both standing there with such glum faces I’m assuming that you’re about to deliver bad news.’ Edward, looking very handsome in a dark blue Savile Row suit and cornflower-blue tie, sat back in his chair, his eyes focused on his executives. ‘And for God’s sake sit down, the two of you. You might as well be comfortable when you give me the dire news.’

‘You assume correctly,’ Will said. ‘It’s about George. He’s in trouble.’

‘How unusual,’ Edward said in a sardonic voice. ‘What’s he done now? I know he can’t have killed my deal with Ian MacDonald because that meeting is not until tomorrow.’

‘That’s so,’ Will agreed, and went on, ‘You’re about to get hit with his gambling debts, and Amos can fill you in better than I can about those. But the gossip is rampant, all over town, so Howard tells me.’

‘Gambling debts! Why am I going to get hit with them, for God’s sake? He can bloody well pay his own gambling debts,’ Edward exclaimed, his voice rising angrily.

‘Let me start at the beginning,’ Will said. ‘A few days ago my brother told me there was gossip out on the street about George’s gambling, whoring, and drug-taking –’

‘He’s taking drugs?’ Edward shouted, his face turning red as the fury erupted. Although he was blessed with an affable nature and was calm most of the time, Edward did have a famous temper that struck terror in everyone. ‘I’ll have his guts for garters!’ he shrilled, jumping up, his temper getting the better of him. ‘And why does he have debts in the first place? I’ll skin him alive, the little sod! Bringing dishonour to our name. A gentleman takes care of his obligations, and he’s well aware of that.’

‘You know what George is,’ Oliveri murmured softly. ‘And I have a suggestion to make …’ Oliveri paused, staring hard at Edward.

‘Go on, then, tell me,’ Edward snapped, and immediately shook his head. ‘I’m very sorry, Oliveri, I’m not angry with you. Do excuse me.’ He sat down.

‘Don’t have to explain, I understand. Getting back to the bad lad, I think we should send him off on a few trips, get him out of London, and away from all the temptations of the flesh, etcetera.’ Alfredo sat back, eyeing Edward, his expression serious.

‘Where can we send him?’ Will asked, glancing at Alfredo swiftly, frowning.

‘First of all, if the deal with Ian MacDonald proceeds, he can take charge of it, and he’ll be back and forth to Edinburgh for quite a while. Otherwise, he can go to Spain, which was neutral during the war: travel is still relatively easy. He could look into the Jimenez situation. They do want to sell their sherry business, remember.’ His gaze still fixed on Will, Alfredo finished, ‘They make the best sherry in the world, let’s not forget that.’

‘George certainly won’t,’ Edward interjected. ‘I should think he’ll jump at a job like that. But it’s a good idea, keeping him travelling, I mean. But what’s this about drugs, Will? And what is he taking?’

‘Howard didn’t know, but he’s promised to find out for me. I suspect it’s either cocaine, or possibly he visits those opium dens in Chinatown, down Limehouse way.’

‘Bloody fool!’ Edward shook his head, stood up again, paced for a moment, and then he addressed Will. ‘You said Amos has investigated all this, knows more.’

‘He does. I spoke to him earlier. I’d asked him to do a bit of digging for me yesterday, and he did find out a few things last night. I told him to come in around ten thirty –’ Will stopped at the sound of a loud knock on the door. ‘I’m sure this is him.’

‘No doubt,’ Edward agreed, and called out, ‘Come in!’

‘Good morning,’ Amos said to the room at large; they greeted him in return. Hurrying over to the desk, he waited until Edward was seated behind it before taking the empty chair at the other side.

‘What did you find out?’ Edward asked.

‘The promissory notes are held by three clubs. Starks, The Rosemont, and the Gentleman’s Club. Starks is owed the most money, and Julian Stark is personally holding the notes. I heard last night from one of my contacts that he is going to come and see you himself, to demand payment.’

‘Is he now? Well, we must forestall him. He’s a big gossip. Do you know how much my brother owes Stark?’

Amos nodded. ‘I do. Thirty thousand pounds.’

Edward was flabbergasted, and his face paled. ‘What an idiot he is!’ he cried, his rage surfacing.

‘Don’t lose your temper again,’ Will murmured in soothing tones. ‘He ain’t worth it, Ned, and it’s only money.’

Endeavouring to calm himself, Edward muttered, ‘It’s the principle.’ Then he addressed Alfredo. ‘I’m going to write a personal cheque for that amount, a cashier’s cheque, and I’d like you and Finnister to take it to Julian Stark after lunch. I know you won’t mind doing that, will you? And get those promissory notes.’

‘That’s not a problem, we can handle this bit of business in a few minutes.’ Oliveri glanced at Finnister. ‘Isn’t that so?’

Amos nodded, then looked over at Edward. ‘The other two gambling clubs are each holding notes for five thousand pounds.’

‘I see.’ Edward was livid, and his anger showed on his face which had now lost all of its colour completely, was paler than ever. ‘I’ll write those two cheques as well, and you can drop them off, can’t you, Amos? Oliveri?’

‘Yes, and I’ll get the promissory notes,’ Amos replied and Oliveri nodded.

There was a sudden silence in the office. Will thought a pin dropping would be like a bomb going off, and he held himself perfectly still, waiting for a further explosion from Ned. But he said nothing. Nor did anyone else speak.

Forty thousand pounds was a fortune, Will thought, turning over the amount in his mind. How had George Deravenel managed to lose so much? Drink? Drugs? Total stupidity? Well he was stupid. Will had always known that. A pretty boy, spoiled by his mother and sister Meg before she had married and gone to live in France. George. All that silky blond hair, those unusual turquoise blue eyes. But dumb yes … beautiful and dumb. Poor eyesight, couldn’t pass the test to join the army. He thought he was Ned, or, more correctly, thought he could be his big brother. That was not possible. Edward was brilliant; he couldn’t hold a candle to him. George was his own worst enemy, Will understood this. He was always heading for trouble of his own making.

Will looked at Amos, as Edward was saying, ‘So tell me, what did you find out about the drugs, Amos?’

‘I went to a lot of clubs late last night, and I think the drug-taking has been exaggerated,’ Amos explained. ‘He might have tried reefers at times, also cocaine, but I don’t believe it’s a problem. Liquor is. He drinks a lot. He’s on the road to becoming an alcoholic.’

‘Just as I thought.’ Edward nodded. ‘Thank you, Amos, for sniffing around. I’m going to have to decide what to do with Master George, when he returns to London.’ He gave the three men a warm smile. ‘But I’m not going to let him spoil Christmas. Lunch at Rules at one o’clock, and please, gentlemen, I don’t want any discussion about this matter in front of Richard.’

ELEVEN

Grace Rose finished wrapping the last of her Christmas presents in gold paper, tying the gauzy gold ribbon into a lavish bow. After adding a small spray of gold-painted holly and a bunch of tiny gold bells, she put it to one side on the table. Then, very neatly, she wrote on the small gift card: To dearest Bess, with much love from Grace Rose. Once she had tied the card onto the ribbon she sat back, regarding her handiwork.

There were nine presents all beautifully wrapped and ready to be sent off to Ravenscar. Six of them were for her half sisters and brothers, and three were for her adult relatives, Aunt Cecily, Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Ned.

Uncle Ned. Her father. She loved him the most except for her parents, Vicky and Stephen Forth. They had adopted her, brought her up since she was four years old … fourteen years of love and devotion they had given her, and they had given her a life, one that was truly wonderful, and which she wouldn’t have had without them.

In her mind Grace Rose associated Vicky and Stephen with love, for that is what she had received from them, and continued to receive unstintingly. They had never demanded anything in return but she had responded to them with utter devotion, love and obedience.