The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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with his cousin, and they would be on the afternoon train from York. And then Mr Edward had broken the sorrowful news.
When Will had inquired how Mr Deravenel senior and Mr Edmund had died, the butler had explained, ‘It was in a fire in Italy. Mr Watkins senior and his son Thomas were travelling with them, and they were also killed. A great tragedy for the two families, sir,’ the butler had finished in a shaken voice, looking on the verge of tears.
Further shocked and appalled, Will had offered his condolences to the butler, who had been in the family’s employ since boyhood, he being the son of an old family retainer. Swinton had thanked him, and the two had talked for a short while longer.
Will had eventually taken his leave, and had placed his calling card on the silver salver on the hall table as he went out. Feeling upset and worried, he had walked back to his rooms at the Albany, his senses positively reeling as he had strode down past Shepherd’s Market, through Berkeley Square and into Piccadilly where the Albany was located.
During his walk he had made up his mind to go to King’s Cross to meet the York train, to be there in case Edward needed him. And of course he would. To lose a father, brother, uncle and cousin in one fell swoop was something incomprehensible, and certainly Will knew that if such a catastrophe had happened to him he would need his best friend, and all the help he could get.
For Will the rest of the day had been miserable. He had paced his rooms, left his food untouched, and discovered that his concentration had totally fled. He had sat staring into the fire for hours, filled with sadness for his friend, and wondering how to console him in his loss.
Now, in the distance, Will heard a train hooting and he wondered if it was the one he was waiting for. He hoped so. Moving closer to the barrier, he peered ahead and was somewhat relieved when he overheard a man standing nearby tell his companion, ‘That’s the York train pulling in now.’
Train whistles blowing. Smoke, steam, fog mingling. Doors slamming. Hustle and bustle. Busy porters pushing luggage carts. Crowds hurrying along the platform.
So much activity, so many people, Will thought, moving his head, craning his neck, scanning the crowd, seeking Edward Deravenel and Neville Watkins. Within a few minutes the crowds were dissipating, thinning out, and suddenly he spotted them walking together along the platform, followed by a porter with their luggage. He made the decision to stay put. He was standing just behind the barrier, the best place of all, he knew that, and certainly Edward would spot him immediately.
Naturally, it was hard to miss Edward Deravenel. He was so handsome, so tall he towered over everyone and stood out most markedly in any crowd. And there was no mistaking Edward’s cousin.
Neville had always had a taste for fine clothes and was beautifully attired in the latest and most stylish fashions on all occasions. His reputation for being a bit of a dandy had preceded him for years; there were even those who referred to him as the Edwardian Beau Brummell.
Tonight Neville wore a black Homburg hat, in the jaunty style favoured by King Edward, and a black overcoat with an astrakhan collar. It was stylish, elegant and obviously it had been impeccably tailored in one of Savile Row’s best establishments.
Although he was not as tall as his cousin, Neville was, nonetheless, a striking, good-looking man, and he held himself regally, walked as if he owned the world.
In a sense, he probably did, now that his father was dead. He would inherit the many companies which his grandfather had left to Rick Watkins, and which Rick had run most successfully for some years. But this aside, Neville was a prosperous man in his own right; his vast fortune came from his own efforts, and there was too the fortune his heiress wife Anne had brought to the marriage as her dowry. Will knew that he was considered to be one of the most important magnates in England.
People standing in front of Will hurried off to greet those travellers they were meeting, and he found himself looking straight down the emptying platform. Edward caught sight of him, and a quick flash of a smile glanced across his handsome face.
Will waved, and went to the gate, clasped Edward’s hand as he came through.
Neville nodded, thrust out his own hand, and then when the greetings were over the three men moved towards the entrance to the railway station which also led out to the street.
‘Good of you to come, Will. I suppose you’ve spoken to Swinton?’ Edward spoke quickly, raised an eyebrow.
Will nodded. ‘I went to the Mayfair house today, to find out when you were returning from Yorkshire. Swinton told me the horrendous news. Ned, I’m so very, very sorry. This is such a terrible tragedy…’
‘Yes,’ Ned said laconically.
Turning to Neville, Will went on, ‘Please accept my condolences, Neville. I know you’re as heartsick as Ned.’
‘Thank you, Will,’ Neville responded a little brusquely, and cleared his throat. ‘Did you come in a hansom?’
‘Yes, I did. The driver’s waiting for me.’
‘My carriage will be outside. Would you care to ride with us, or do you prefer to make use of the cab which brought you?’
‘I’d like to come with you and Ned, naturally,’ Will answered. ‘I’ll pay the driver off, he’ll be happy to pick up another fare here at the station.’
By this time they had reached the exit where several private carriages were waiting, along with a number of hansom cabs. Will glanced around until he found the one he had come in; he hurried over to pay the driver while Neville and Edward showed the porter where to put the luggage.
Within a very short while the three men were seated comfortably in Neville’s elegant carriage, being driven across London, heading for Mayfair and the town house in Charles Street where the Deravenels lived.
After making desultory conversation for a few minutes, all three men fell silent, and Will, who was sitting opposite Edward and Neville in the carriage, soon began to realize that both had drifted into their own thoughts.
And with good reason, Will decided: they both have a great deal to think about and to deal with. Several times he was on the verge of saying something and then instantly bit back the words. He was reluctant to intrude on the privacy they appeared to need, and on their grief. Their expressions were sorrowful, and Edward, who was usually filled with vivacity, was positively sombre; Neville’s face was closed, bore no expression at all, except for his eyes. And they were cold, pale blue ice.
Will leaned back against the padded seat of the carriage, lost in his own mental meanderings for a short while. He noticed through the window that the light fog had deepened but was not yet so thick that the driver couldn’t make his way. He closed his eyes, drifting, the only sound the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the road.
A little later Will opened his eyes and saw at once that Edward was studying him intently. Edward said, ‘I hope, Will, that you will join me for a light supper, and you, too, Neville?’
Before Will could say a word, Neville shook his head. ‘I do believe I should get back to Chelsea. I must attend to our travel plans, but thank you, Edward.’
Edward glanced at Will. ‘And what about you, my friend?’
‘Of course I’ll dine with you, Ned, and I’ll help you in any way I can.’
Edward and Will sat in front of the fire in the small parlour of the Mayfair townhouse, each of them nursing a cognac. Edward was recounting everything he knew about the fire, and the tragic deaths of his family, and when he finally finished, he added,