Being Elizabeth (14 page)

Cecil had said he would never permit her to give money to
Deravenels. But in a tight squeeze, if ever there was one, she could
lend
them money, couldn't she?

Her great-grandfather Edward Deravenel had done that when he had used his own money to finance Deravco Oil in Persia. His partners had been two American wildcatters, Jarvis Merson and Herb Lipson, men he trusted and had faith in. Once they had struck their first gigantic gusher and many more, and the company had become a success, Edward had sold Deravco Oil to Deravenels. The oil company had been a boon, a marvellous addition to the trading conglomerate, and Edward had made a huge personal fortune.

Edward Deravenel had begat Bess Deravenel; Bess had begat Harry Turner, her father. And there was no question that
she
was
his
child. She looked like him, and he looked like Edward, and it was perfectly obvious that she herself was a true Deravenel through and through. She carried their genes, Turner genes as well, and so she was a mixture of both … Funny though, how she gravitated to the Deravenel side of the family, was drawn to them …

Now her thoughts turned to the Chelsea house, and she dwelt on it for a long time. She had surprised herself when she had said she wanted seventy million pounds for it. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized the price was not out of the realm of possibility. In fact, she might even get more. The house
was
beautiful, and she had even been tempted at one moment to keep it, but this afternoon she had truly understood that it held too many hard memories for her … bad memories of Mary's rejection of her a year ago … of her stepmother Catherine's rejection of her when she had sent her away … after she had caught her in Tom's arms … memories of him, at times too painful to bear.

How foolish she had been, flirting with him the way she had, allowing him to pet her, touch her. Thank God she had never slept with him. Still, her silly behaviour had indirectly led to his
fall from grace. Reckless, charming, witty Tom, with his devastating looks and potent sexuality. And total lack of common sense. He had been his own worst enemy.

After leaving the Royal Navy as a rear admiral, the youngest in centuries, he had joined Deravenels as an adviser to the Shipping and Cruise Line Division. But he had fallen foul of his brother when Edward Selmere was the administrator; he had had no compunction in giving his younger brother the sack. Disgraced, and with Catherine dead, Tom Selmere had moved to France, where he had subsequently been killed in a car crash.

Car crash
, she thought cynically. To her it had been a fishy story right from the start, and she had often wondered if Tom had been murdered. And she still did.

She would sell the Chelsea house … and in so doing would expunge some of the bad memories in her head. The decision was made. No going back.

R
obert Dunley stood in front of the mirror in his dressing room, a distracted expression on his handsome face. His mind was on business, the business of Deravenels, and he was anxious to get to the office.

Turning away from the mirror, he reached for his suit jacket hanging on the back of a chair, slipped it on and hurried into his bedroom. Sitting down at the desk, he went through the folder of papers he had studied on the flight from Madrid last night, made a few more notes and then put them in his briefcase.

Five minutes later he was out in the street, hailing a cab. Since it was only six-thirty in the morning, he had no problems. One was drawing up immediately and within seconds he was heading through Belgravia and soon entering the Mall, on his way to the Strand and Deravenels.

As he hunched into his overcoat and settled back in the seat, his mind focused on Elizabeth and Cecil, and the business at hand. He hoped they would approve of the tentative deal he had proposed to Philip Alvarez. He and his team had spent endless hours hammering it out in his hotel suite in Madrid, and
he was positive they had covered every possible angle. He began to mull everything over in his mind, looking for any problems, any objections they might have, but he couldn't find any that were serious.

The cabbie was suddenly saying, ‘'Ere we are, guv,' and coming to a standstill. Robert had made it in record time; he jumped out of the cab, paid, and went into Deravenels, greeting the commissionaire on duty. Then he took the grand staircase two steps at a time, anxious to get started.

The lights were turned on in his office and he could hear Elizabeth talking to Cecil through the door which opened on to hers. He dropped his briefcase on a chair, hung up his overcoat and went in, exclaiming, ‘Don't tell me I'm late. Good morning, the two of you.'

‘Good morning, Robert,' Cecil said, cheerful as always. ‘Welcome back.'

Elizabeth leapt to her feet and came to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘No, you're not late,' she told him. ‘We've only been here a couple of minutes ourselves.'

Robert followed her to the seating area at one end of her office, and took a chair next to Cecil. ‘Ambrose and Nicholas went down to Marbella late yesterday afternoon. They wanted to take more photographs and have another look at various things at the resort. They'll be back tomorrow.'

‘I know you're anxious to tell us about the meetings with Philip Alvarez, but before you do, I have a question.' Elizabeth sat back on the sofa, and gave Robert a searching look. ‘Everything seems to have gone so smoothly I can't help thinking there's a catch somewhere … and that the catch is
money
.'

‘You're absolutely right, it is,' Robert answered at once. ‘Before we can take over and run the Marbella resort we do have to
finish
the resort, and that will indeed cost us money.'

‘How much?' Cecil asked, leaning forward slightly in the chair, looking at Robert alertly.

‘About seventy million euros.'

‘Seventy million!' Elizabeth exclaimed. ‘That's throwing good money after bad!'

‘It's not, actually. Because we can have the resort finished, up and running by the end of 1997, and I believe it will be a huge success. Also, I see it as a short-term investment.
If
we decide to go into the project, I think we should understand at the outset that we're going to sell it within five years. We'll get our total investment out, and make a big profit. I foresee an even bigger boom in the leisure industry, and especially with resorts like this one in Marbella.'

Cecil, listening carefully, and as usual making notes, nodded. ‘Tell us more abut the resort, Robert. What's so special about it? And what makes you think it will be such a resounding success?'

‘First, it's on a large tract of valuable land, and it's beautiful, located right on the edge of the sea and the beach. The golf course is finished and the clubhouse is built. The polo grounds are also ready, but the polo clubhouse is not built yet. However, the small hotel is up, but, like the golf clubhouse, it needs decorating. And the villas have to be built.'

‘
Villas
?' Cecil frowned, raised a brow. ‘You never mentioned villas. Aren't those going to cost a lot?'

‘No, because they're not really villas. To be honest, Cecil, they're bungalows, rather like those at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It's Philip who likes to give them the far grander name. Each one has a sitting room, either one or two bedrooms, plus bathrooms. The architectural design is extremely simple, and they can be built relatively quickly, in our opinion.'

‘I see. And how many are planned?' Cecil asked.

‘Six. But there's plenty of land available, so more of them could be built if they're needed.'

‘What about a spa?' Elizabeth ventured. ‘A resort always needs a spa, and they're so popular these days. Almost a necessity, in fact.'

‘I agree, and the plans for one do exist, but I wasn't particularly impressed. It should be much, much larger, more deluxe. Also, a swimming pool and tennis courts ought to be included to make it an all-around sports and leisure resort of the kind I visualize.' Robert stood up, adding, ‘I've got some of the photographs in my briefcase. Let me get them.'

A moment later he was back, and sat down next to Elizabeth on the sofa, showed her colour photographs of the resort, which she passed on to Cecil.

‘Well, you're certainly correct about it being a lovely spot, Robin,' she said. ‘The place looks fabulous. So, tell me, what went wrong? Why couldn't Philip Alvarez finish the resort?'

‘To be honest, I'm not exactly sure. I think he got distracted by his other businesses, probably lost interest in the Marbella Project. Now he's in real trouble, and if he's not rescued he'll go belly up. The banks are breathing down his neck. Seriously so.'

Cecil, who had been studying the photographs, put them down on the coffee table. ‘It's obviously a lovely place. But let's cut to the chase. If we do decide to go into the project, we have to put up seventy million euros to finish building it, and to get it up and running. And we also have to finance the running of it, the day-to-day operations. Correct?'

Robert nodded.

Cecil looked thoughtful.

‘What have you actually proposed to Alvarez, Robin?' Elizabeth turned to Robert as she spoke. ‘And where does
he
stand in the scheme of things?'

‘I made the following proposal to him,' Robert answered. ‘Firstly, that his investment of seventy-two million euros stays in the project, as does Deravenels seventy-five million euros, which Mary invested with him. Secondly, that he can be a member of the board of the new management company which we'll create, but that he cannot be involved in the day-to-day running of the
resort, and has no say about that. He's got to leave that to us. Thirdly, that he will not see a return on his investment until we sell the resort in five years' time.
If
we decide to do that. He was in agreement with everything.'

‘He has no choice,' Elizabeth announced.

Robert smiled at her pithiness. ‘Never a truer word spoken.' He leaned closer to her. ‘He will agree to anything we propose, more or less, because he desperately needs us, he has nowhere else to go. Also, he wants to protect his other business interests.'

Cecil said, ‘When you and I spoke on the phone yesterday, you said he'd agreed to wait for our final decision until after Christmas. But let's assume we do decide to take over, when do you envision that happening, Robert?'

‘We would have to go in there in the middle of January.'

‘But what about those banks you indicated are breathing down his neck?' Cecil's brows drew together in a frown.

‘I said we would give him a letter of intent, which he could show them. In the letter we would lay out our proposal, providing his documentation has held up to our scrutiny,
and
if the board of Deravenels agreed that we could go ahead.'

‘I suppose we
do
have to go to the board?' Elizabeth threw Cecil a questioning look.

‘Yes, we do, absolutely, but I don't think there will be a problem,' Cecil answered. ‘On the surface, this seems like an excellent deal, and let's face it, Deravenels already has seventy-five million euros at stake. I believe the board will agree with us that we
should
be protecting our Spanish investment. Somehow.'

‘But where are we going to get the seventy million euros to finish the resort?' Elizabeth asked, looking from Cecil to Robert and back to Cecil.

‘We can pull some money from our hotel division, and the wine division,' Cecil told her. ‘I'll talk to Broakes and Norfell about that possibility, and I'm quite certain we can borrow the rest. Our banks will go along with us on this.'

‘Don't you think John Norfell ought to go to Marbella to look things over?' Elizabeth suggested.

‘I do, and I was going to suggest it. It will have to be after Christmas, of course,' Robert replied.

‘Is there any deadline as far as Alvarez is concerned, with the letter of intent?' Cecil gave Robert a hard stare. ‘In other words, how long do we have in order to study all the documentation before issuing that letter?'

‘He indicated he could hold things steady until the beginning of January. Ambrose and Nicholas will be bringing more information with them tomorrow, as well as all of the architectural plans, sketches and some more photographs.'

‘Very good.' Cecil glanced at his notebook, closed it, and continued swiftly, ‘I'll talk to a few of the board members privately, but frankly I don't foresee any problems, or objections, not under the circumstances. Although we would be spending a chunk of money to save the original investment, I agree that this is a short-term investment. And we ought to come out of it with excellent profits, along with the return of Mary's original investment.'

‘Are you sure Philip Alvarez won't interfere, once we take over?' Elizabeth sounded worried.

‘I am,' Robert assured her. ‘Because he won't be able to, we'll make sure of that in the contract we draw up with him. Please don't worry about
him
. I have a feeling our Spanish friend just wants to save his skin. If we relieve him of the burdens of the resort, particularly of finishing it, he will be eternally grateful.'

Elizabeth threw him a sceptical look but made no further comment.

Cecil stood up. ‘Let's have another meeting at nine tomorrow morning, so that we can consult with Ambrose and Nicholas. And thanks, Robert, you've done a great job.'

‘It was a team effort, Cecil.'

Left alone together, Elizabeth turned to Robert. ‘I agree with
Cecil, you've done a fantastic job. But I want to ask you about something else … about Christmas. It's almost upon us, and I was wondering if you're still coming to Waverley Court?'

‘No, I'm not.'

‘Oh.' Taken aback, her face changed, and she looked crestfallen, stood staring at him.

‘And you can't go there either. Because we have quite a lot of work to do, to be able to bring this deal to a conclusion. You and Cecil will have to work with me for at least part of the time.'

‘That's fine. But what about Christmas Day?'

‘I'm going to spend it with you. In London, not the country.'

‘I understand.' Her smile was one of relief.

‘Shall we have lunch together later?'

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I'm afraid I can't, Robin. I promised Grace Rose I would have lunch with her and I don't want to disappoint her. But I'm free this evening.'

‘Then let's have supper. I'll take you to the Caprice and you can have your favourite fishcakes and chips.'

She began to laugh. ‘It's a date.'

Robert picked up the photographs, moved towards the door. ‘I've a lot of work to do, but come in if you need me for anything.'

Elizabeth nodded, then sat down at her desk. She was glad he was back, and she smiled to herself as she picked up her pen.

‘Well, don't you look beautiful today,' Grace Rose said, taking hold of Elizabeth's hand, beaming at her.

‘Thank you, and so do you, Grace Rose.' Elizabeth leaned closer, kissed her cheek, filled with affection for her aunt.

‘Come and sit with me in the drawing room for a few minutes. Would you like a glass of sherry?'

Remembering that she had only eaten a banana for dinner
last night, and had a cup of coffee for breakfast, Elizabeth quickly declined. ‘I'm not a very good drinker, and certainly not at lunchtime, especially since I have to go back to work.'

‘I understand.' Still holding her hand, Grace Rose led her into the drawing room and across to the fireplace. ‘Let's sit here, where it's warm, and perhaps you'd be kind enough to bring
me
a glass of sherry. The decanter is over there, on the drinks table.'