Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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said, ‘Why do you ask? You know I like the bad news first.’
Robert strolled into the room, handed her the manila folder he was carrying, and sat down in the chair opposite her.
‘What is this?’ she asked almost warily, and did not open it. Instead, she placed it on the desk. She looked at him intently, his eyes on her, her own filled with sudden concern.
‘It’s a copy of the note your half-sister wrote to her … about-to-be husband Philip Alvarez, just after she had transferred all that money to him. When I say copy, I do mean the copy Mary made for herself. In other words, it’s the same as the original, which undoubtedly he still has. Why wouldn’t he have it?’
Elizabeth opened the folder, read the note quickly, recognizing Mary’s handwriting at once. Her face settled into grim lines. The note was short, but its style was saccharine. And sickening. She closed the folder. Fool! Fool! Mary had been the biggest fool. And she had been duped by Philip.
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. ‘So she did give him the money as a wedding present,’ she finally murmured, and shook her head. ‘I won’t get it back, Robin, will I?’ she asked in a miserable voice.
‘No, you won’t, I’m afraid. I suppose in his mind it’s a … well, like a … dowry.’
‘She gave him practically everything she had, you know. Cecil told me her personal bank account is virtually empty.’
‘So he explained to me, too. And you’ll just have to write the money off, you’ve no alternative,’ Robert felt bound to point out. ‘But look here, since we’ve found the contracts for the Marbella Project there’s no question in my mind, or Cecil’s either, that we can sue Alvarez and his company.’
‘In my opinion we won’t get that money back either! Mary created nothing but havoc, and her ventures with Alvarez were fraught with danger. He might be called the great tycoon, but it’s an empty title.’
‘That’s true. But I feel certain there’s less of a mess than we originally thought. There are many problems, but the auditors are making good progress and Cecil’s sorted out a lot. And so have I. We’re stopping the downward slide. There’s only one way to go, and that’s up.’
She nodded, agreeing with him silently, but her face was glum.
Robert leaned over the desk and, gazing at her with his sparkling dark eyes, he said, ‘Don’t you want to know the good news?’
Her face instantly brightened; he could always manage to cheer her up. ‘I do, yes. Tell me, Robin.’
‘I’ve arranged for us to go away for the weekend.’
‘But I can’t go away! Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve too much work, and so do you, Robin!’
‘You can go away, and so can I. And we’re going. We both need a break. The last two weeks have been hellish, and we’ve worked non-stop. It’s been bloody relentless, actually. I’m tired and so are you. I know you are.’
‘I’ve never seen you look better, Robin Dunley!’ she cried, her voice rising, sounding indignant. ‘Very handsome, dashing and debonair, this morning. You don’t look tired one bit.’
‘But you do, Elizabeth. Your face is whiter than ever, you have a pinched look, and there are dark circles under your eyes. For the past two weeks we’ve been cooped up here in these offices until all hours. It’s not healthy. We should get back to exercising and riding.’
She knew Robert spoke the truth. He never spoke anything else, and he had her welfare at heart. She was tired, bone-tired, if the truth be known. Glancing at the calendar on her desk she saw that it was Thursday, December fifth. Sunday the eighth was circled in red … that was the day she had promised to have tea with Aunt Grace Rose. Monday the ninth was also circled … that was the day of the board meeting. The thought of this, and the board members who were coming, prompted her to ask, ‘Where were you thinking of going, Robin?’
‘Waverley Court.’
‘Waverley Court! But it’s closed!’
‘No, it’s not. I spoke to Toby Watson last night, and he told me you had instructed him to keep the central heating on low all through winter because of the pipes. He gushed about how warm and cosy it was, said all he had to do was put a match to the fires, which were already laid, take off the dust covers and send Myrtle shopping for groceries –’
‘You called the caretaker!’ Elizabeth spluttered, astonished.
‘– and I told him to go ahead,’ Robert finished.
‘Go ahead? What do you mean?’
‘I said he should send Myrtle shopping for groceries. We’ll need food, Elizabeth, whilst we’re staying there.’
For a moment she was utterly bemused, then recovered herself, and exclaimed, ‘Cecil has arranged some meetings tomorrow, and I have to be present, must be, actually.’
‘He’s changed the meetings. They’ll be held next week. He agreed with me you need a few days off.’
‘You also spoke to Cecil!’ She looked at him askance.
‘I certainly did. I’ve taken charge for once, and I’m making damned sure I look after you for a few days. So stop arguing.’
Sitting back in the chair, Elizabeth was lost for words, but finally spoke, found herself saying, ‘I will have to be back in time to have tea with Aunt Grace Rose on Sunday afternoon, Robin. She’s looking forward to it … I wouldn’t want to disappoint her.’
‘Then we shan’t.’ He grinned, knowing he had won, then jumped up and went round to her side of the desk. He pulled her to her feet, said, ‘Come with me for a moment, I want to show you something.’
Nodding, suddenly no longer resistant to him, she allowed herself to be propelled from her office into his. Holding her hand tightly, he led her to the credenza which stretched along one entire wall in his office.
‘Look at this. Isn’t it beautiful?’ He slid his hand over the highly polished wood, and went on, ‘This looks like one piece, but actually it’s two credenzas sitting side by side, from the Regency period. Just look at the mahogany, the sheen on it … isn’t it gorgeous, Elizabeth?’
‘Yes, the wood is extraordinary, and so are these two pieces. They’ve been here for donkey’s years … I remember how my father used to admire them.’
‘They were bought for this room by a man called Will Hasling. He was your great-grandfather’s best friend, and this was his office.’
‘How interesting. I didn’t know that.’ She looked at him in puzzlement. ‘Why are you suddenly bringing my attention to them?’
‘Do you remember how I was sorting through a lot of keys last week?’
She nodded. ‘Hundreds and hundreds.’
‘Ever since I took possession of this office, after Mary’s assistant Neil Logan went on sick leave, I have attempted to open the cupboards in the credenzas. But I’ve had no success. None of my keys fit. Until last night.’ He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a small old brass key, showed it to her.
‘This is the one that opened the cupboard doors. It’s not the correct key, it doesn’t belong to the credenzas, but somehow it fits these locks. So I didn’t have to have the locks removed, and so saved a lot of damage to the antiques.’ As he was speaking, Robert opened the cupboard doors, and pulled out a drawer. ‘The folder I gave you was in here, under a pile of magazines, newspapers, and other folders. Neil Logan more than likely has forgotten about the file, and where he put it. How is he, by the way?’
‘I spoke to his wife the other day, and she told me his nervous breakdown wasn’t really that at all. His doctors think he