Heirs of Ravenscar (32 page)

After Will and Oliveri had left the vineyard to go back to London, George decided to take off himself. He told Vincent
he had to go to the Riviera on business for forty-eight hours, and took the train to Monte Carlo.

From the moment he checked into the Hôtel de Paris near the casino he felt his spirits lifting. Monte Carlo was his favourite spot on the Côte d'Azur. Even though he knew all of the other towns and their casinos … Cannes, Nice, and Beaulieu-sur-Mer, and had enjoyed them over the years, he always gravitated to Monte.

The evening he arrived, he dressed carefully in his Savile Row dinner jacket, well cut and elegant, a crisp white shirt and black bowtie. After glancing at himself in the mirror in the hall of his suite, he went downstairs to the lobby of this most magnificent hotel. He walked over to the cashier's desk, glancing around. He was well known at the hotel, as was the entire Deravenel family, and by chance he happened to be acquainted with the cashier on duty. Greeting the man cordially in perfect French, he cashed a cheque for two thousand pounds, pocketed the money, left the hotel and strolled across the square to the renowned casino.

He savoured the moment when he walked into the Grand Salon: it was always a magic moment for him. He stood perfectly still, taking in his surroundings … the great crystal chandeliers dropping from ceiling, the plush red carpet, the magnificent cream-coloured panelling on the walls highlighted with gold-leaf, and those wonderful gambling tables. Here he could play roulette, chemin de fer, and baccarat: he knew he would enjoy himself.

George had always loved the fragrant, mingled perfumes of the women, the masculine haze of cigar and cigarette smoke, and the spicy hint of the aftershave lotions of the men in their impeccably-cut evening jackets. The sounds were also magical to him – the ball whizzing around the roulette wheel and clattering into a slot after the croupier had spun it, the sharp slap of chips against each other on the tables,
the shuffle of the cards from the shoe. He was in his element here.

Throwing back his shoulders, George sauntered through the Grand Salon, heading in the direction of the cashier. Here he used the money he had brought with him from London, plus the two thousand he had just cashed at the hotel, and purchased four thousand pounds worth of gambling chips.

A passing waiter stopped at his side as he turned away from the
Caisse
; George smiled, nodded, and took a crystal goblet of champagne. He cut quite a swathe as he sauntered on, this tall, handsome young man with striking features and blond hair, and many of the beautiful women turned to stare at him.

He noticed this, but pretended not to, and smiled inwardly. After his fun gambling, and drinking more of this delicious champagne, he would attempt to find two women who were alone at the casino tonight, and invite one of them, or both, into his bed.

After three quick glasses of champagne George felt absolutely wonderful. Excited yet controlled and full of confidence. Immediately, he made for one of the roulette tables, arrived just as the croupier was shouting, ‘
Rien ne va plus
,' … no more bets. And so he had to wait for the ball to fly around the wheel, come to a rest, and to be spun again. Only then could he participate.

At the next throw George was in, and he placed some of his chips on the numbers nine, eleven and thirteen. To his great delight, he won. He won again and again, and tripled his money.

And that was how it was for several hours. Eventually, he moved on to play baccarat, and slowly lost. Next, he went over to the chemin de fer table, where he lost once more. But he wasn't going to give up, or give in. He started all over, using his last thousand pounds, and, to his
enormous chagrin, he lost everything. Four thousand gone, just like that!

Never mind, he thought, as he headed back to the
Caisse
window. I'll change my luck, I know I will. He produced his passport again and signed a marker for five thousand pounds. The name Deravenel was well known here at the casino, just as it was at the Hôtel de Paris, and he was a welcome guest, one to whom every courtesy was given.

It ended up being an unlucky night for George Deravenel in the end. At two in the morning, a little bit worse for wear, George headed back to the Hôtel de Paris. And he was alone. He felt a stab of dismay as he crossed the square … He had lost all of the cash he had come to the casino with and had signed markers for another five thousand pounds … He now owed money to the casino. Not only that, he had not managed to find a woman, and he had not eaten dinner. But those things didn't matter. What mattered were his gambling debts. His brother Edward would be furious with him, and he certainly wouldn't help him. Neither would Richard; he wasn't even sure he could go to his mother yet again. His heart sank.

Then a brainwave hit him. His sister lived in Dijon. He would phone Meg tomorrow and she would come and rescue him. He hoped and prayed she would, but he wasn't even sure of
her
at the moment. As he entered the hotel, he felt sudden depression envelop him, and deep down within himself he knew he was doomed. He always had been doomed, hadn't he?

‘W
hat a huge bonfire you've made, Amos,' Grace Rose said, walking around it, followed by Bess. They were both eyeing the enormous pile of wood, branches and sticks piled high in the centre of the cobblestone yard at the back of Waverley Court. ‘There'll be a terrific blaze when we light it later.'

Amos laughed, explained, ‘I can't take credit for it, I'm afraid, my dear. It was Joby, and his under-gardener Stew, plus the boot-boy, who built it up into this veritable pyre. I just stood and watched them working.'

‘This is going to be the best bonfire night we've ever had,' Bess said, adjusting her woollen scarf. ‘Nanny says everyone can come, except for Baby George, because he's only one year old, and too young. Oh, did you remember to bring the fireworks, Amos?'

‘I did indeed, Bess. Catherine Wheels, starbursts and lots of sparklers, which I know are your favourites.'

‘Thank you. We've been helping Cook,' Bess now confided.
‘We've made parkin, gingerbread boys, and Cook has baked potatoes. She says we can warm them up at the edge of the fire later, and there'll be roast chestnuts as well.'

‘My goodness, we're going to have quite a feast!'

On hearing Edward's voice, Bess swung around and raced across the courtyard to her father. He hugged her tightly, put his arm around her shoulders, walked with her to the bonfire.

‘Afternoon, Mr Deravenel,' Amos said, thrusting out his hand.

‘Hello, Amos, old chap,' Edward responded, shaking his hand. ‘I'm glad you're here. When did you arrive?'

‘About an hour ago, sir. I drove down with Broadbent.'

‘I hope you've been looked after, had some sort of refreshment.'

‘Oh yes, sir, I have. Cook saw to that. Most obliging she was, and kind. She made me a brawn sandwich and a very nice cup of tea.'

Edward nodded, and turned to Grace Rose, offering her a warm and loving smile. She came to his side at once, and he gave her a hug and then said, ‘I hope your parents are coming over later. They did say they would.'

‘Oh yes, Uncle Ned, they're looking forward to it, they wouldn't miss it for anything.'

It was early evening on Saturday, November the fifth, Guy Fawkes Night, which was mostly known as Bonfire Night throughout England. Bonfires were lit all over the land, and effigies of Guy Fawkes burned. After the fireworks display everyone ate the baked potatoes, roast chestnuts, and gingerbread boys and the parkin. The origin of Bonfire Night went back to the year 1605 when a conspiracy to blow up the Houses of Parliament was concocted by Guy Fawkes and his followers.

Edward said, ‘I can't imagine how Guy Fawkes thought
he would succeed. From what I remember from my history books, he didn't have enough gunpowder, did he?'

Amos shook his head. ‘I don't think he did. It was hidden in the cellars of Parliament, and if I remember correctly some of it got damp. At least that's what I recall from
my
history lessons.'

‘He wanted to blow up King James as well,' Bess interjected. ‘He was hoping to incite the Catholics to riot because they were upset by the new severe laws against their religion.'

‘Well done, Bess,' her father exclaimed, and smiled with a degree of pride.

‘I like history, Father,' she told him, and went on, ‘I'm following in Grace Rose's footsteps.'

He laughed, and so did Amos and Grace Rose, and then he continued, ‘I shall go inside for a short while. I have to talk to Amos about a few things.' He glanced up at the sky, saw that the sun had set, that twilight was beginning to descend. ‘It's going to be dark in about half an hour, and then we shall come out and enjoy the bonfire.'

Edward led Amos through the back of the house, to the library on the other side. He closed the library door behind them, and went over to the fireplace as usual. ‘Take a seat here, near the fireside,' he said to Amos. ‘You know I like to stand and to prowl about a room.'

Amos nodded. ‘I do indeed, Mr Edward.'

Bending down, Edward threw a couple of logs onto the fire, and then said in a low voice, ‘When did you get back from Mâcon?'

‘This morning. I travelled overnight to Paris and took the morning boat train. I didn't get in touch because I knew I'd be seeing you tonight.

‘That's all right, Amos, no problem. How did you find things at the vineyards?' he asked, giving Finnister a keen look.

‘Everything seems to be very calm, sir. Mr George was quite cordial, and when Oliveri and I arrived with the children and the nanny he was delighted, happy to see them. And later in the day your sister came down from Dijon, and she was equally pleased to see them all, especially her namesake, little Margaret. Solange made a proper English afternoon tea and it was very jolly, we enjoyed it.'

‘I'm glad Meg is there for a few days,' Edward murmured, and looked off into the distance for a split second and then turning to Finnister again, asked, ‘Is he drinking?'

‘I'm afraid so, Mr Edward. He's dropped off the wagon … he doesn't seem to be overdoing it though.'

‘I suppose he
would
be careful with you and Oliveri present. What did Vincent Martell have to say about the vineyards? Anything special?'

‘Not a lot, and everything seems to be on an even keel. Mr George hasn't been causing trouble.'

‘So far,' Edward interrupted with a wry smile. ‘But you never know with George, he can erupt unexpectedly. What about Marcel Arnaud? Does he get on with my brother?'

‘I'm not sure about that, sir. Mr Arnaud appears to be a quiet man, introspective, so I thought. Oliveri said I should tell you that he is quite certain your brother doesn't like him. We were there for only three days, of course – nonetheless, we picked up quite a lot in the time. According to Solange, Mr George has become a bit of a Casanova in the area: there seem to be quite a few women hovering around him. He's also made several trips to Nice. That worried Oliveri, because of the casinos. He said I should alert you to this. He's concerned that Mr George might have started gambling again.'

Edward nodded. ‘Did Vincent have anything to say about my brother's work habits? Has he been learning about the vineyards, do you know?'

‘In the first few weeks he was apparently very diligent, but according to Vincent Martell he's slacked off quite a lot lately.'

‘So he's doing nothing much … as usual. Well, what can you expect? He's lazy, Amos, and he always has been.'

Edward walked across to the windows, looked out, thinking of George. He was a wastrel, no two ways about it.

Turning around, he looked across at Amos, and said, ‘So what it boils down to is that he's womanizing, drinking again, and he's more than likely making trips to the Riviera to gamble in the casinos of Nice. And also in Cannes and Monte Carlo, I've no doubt.' Edward paused, his eyes narrowing as he asked, ‘But has he done any talking? Is he spreading bad stories about me and mine?'

Amos stared at Edward, remained absolutely silent for a moment or two. He had not wanted to say anything about George Deravenel's nasty talk about his brother, at least not until tomorrow. This was a night for the children to enjoy, and he had not wished to upset Edward. But his great loyalty and devotion to him made it impossible for Amos to lie, and so he said quietly, ‘He's up to his old tricks, yes, sir.'

‘Who's he been talking to, Amos?'

‘Vincent Martell, certainly. But I doubt that he has said anything to anyone else. It wouldn't mean a thing to Solange, and I don't believe Mr Arnaud would understand, or care. He's a bit of a loner, that chap, and not one to fraternize. Keeps himself to himself, seemingly. I realized that Vincent was very annoyed, put out that your brother would speak ill of you, and in such a terrible way. He was flabbergasted, and disgusted, and mentioned it to us, because he thought we ought to know. He's very loyal to you, sir.'

‘I know he is.'

‘In our opinion, mine and Oliveri's – well, we think Mr George has done himself a disservice, done himself in with Vincent Martell. Before Oliveri left for Turkey he asked me to make a point of informing you about Mr George and his tittle-tattling. He says your brother is besmirching you, and it worries him quite a lot I think.'

‘I'm certain Oliveri is correct about Vincent. We've enjoyed an excellent relationship for years. He was very happy when I rescued the vineyard, all those years ago, when Madame de Poret was widowed and didn't know how to cope alone. He was truly grateful, actually.' Edward shrugged, added, ‘We'll talk again tomorrow, Amos, but now we'd better turn to happier things, go and join the children.'

At this moment there was a tap on the door, and Edward called, ‘Come in.'

The door opened, and Faxton, the butler, put his head around it and said, ‘Sorry to disturb, sir, but Mr and Mrs Forth have arrived with Lady Fenella and Mr Ledbetter, and Mrs Deravenel just came down.'

‘Thank you, Faxton, we'll be right out.'

Edward squeezed Elizabeth's arm, then went over to greet Vicky, Fenella, Stephen and Mark. Once he had welcomed his closest friends, he glanced around, spotted Joby, the gardener, the under-gardener Stew, and Elias, the bootboy. They were all amply armed with large boxes of Swan Vesta matches and were waiting for his order to light the bonfire.

His eyes scanned the rest of the group, which included Cook, some of the other domestic staff, and Faxton, who had just hurried out of the house to join the others. Then
they settled on the row of youngsters standing near him.

Edward was enormously proud of his children. Bess, such a beautiful girl, and tall for twelve; next to her was Young Edward, a handsome boy of eight, and his little brother Ritchie, now five. Mary, who was eleven years old, was clutching Cecily's hand. A golden-haired child like her brothers, she was a little timid, even though she was nine. Nanny was holding three-year-old Anne in her arms; next to her was his darling Grace Rose. A rare beauty at twenty-one and everyone's favourite. Even Elizabeth treated her kindly these days, and was obviously quite fond of her.

His family
. His large family, whom he loved, adored and treasured. They were safe, thank God. He and Elizabeth had made them safe through their secret marriage this past August. He would always be thankful that she had married him again without too much fuss; but then, she had not had any alternative really.

Thoughts of George intruded, and then he pushed them to one side. He had hopefully foiled his brother and his treacherous intentions. If he hadn't put a stop to the gossip, what did it matter, actually? He could deny it and in all truth insist he was well and truly married to Elizabeth because now he was.

Suddenly, Bess was standing in front of him and her words brought him out of his reverie. ‘Father, you must give the order, tell Joby and the others to light the bonfire.'

‘Yes, I must, Bess.' He stepped forward and cried, ‘All right, lads, do it. Get the bonfire going.'

Within seconds the twigs and branches caught light, and once the flames were flaring up into the sky and the effigy of Guy Fawkes was burning, Bess gathered her brothers and sisters together, and holding hands, dancing around the roaring bonfire, they began to sing the old song:

When the children had finished singing, the adults applauded them and shouted their hoorahs; Cook and several of the young maids passed around plates of gingerbread men, the parkin and other sweet cakes, while Faxton brought out a tray holding tall glasses of lemonade. And Elias, armed with a pair of long tongs, ran around the edge of the bonfire, pulling out the hot baked potatoes which had been placed there earlier to warm. After everyone had tasted the special treats and drunk the lemonade, Amos distributed the sparklers. The other men went around and lighted them for the children.