The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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moment later, alone in his office, Edward reached for the phone on his desk and picked up the receiver. Then he instantly replaced it. Why make a telephone call to Neville now? It wasn’t necessary. The newspaper boys would soon be out on the streets, touting the latest afternoon editions and screaming the headlines. Best to let sleeping dogs lie, he decided, and waited for Oliveri to come into his office.
He arrived within two minutes.
Seating himself in the chair, Alfredo gave Edward a long questioning stare and said, ‘So, what do you think?’
‘I think the inspector is a damned fine policeman who has found absolutely no evidence of murder.’
‘Do you think Aubrey Masters committed suicide?’
‘I’m not sure, to be truthful. He might have killed himself, but let’s take the coroner’s verdict as the gospel truth, shall we?’
‘But naturally, old chap,’ Alfredo said, poker-faced. ‘However, between you and me, I’ve found enough evidence to have had him hung, drawn and quartered if he’d been alive. He was definitely skimming, and Jack Beaufield and James Cliff were in on it with him. And others on the job locally.’
Edward grinned. ‘So we’ve got the two who are still alive by the cojones, have we?’
‘Oh yes, indeed, we surely do. It’s taken a bit of digging, if you’ll excuse the unintended pun, by Aspen and Christopher Green but we now have even more evidence required to get those two out. I can’t wait to tell Neville Watkins.’
Vicky Forth had the hansom cab take her to Whitechapel; once they arrived at the High Street she alighted, reminding the driver that he was to wait for her.
Hurrying away from the horse-drawn cab, she made her way through several mean, bleak little streets until she arrived at the reclaimed old building now named Haddon House. She knocked on the door and waited, looking up at the darkening sky. A storm threatened and it was beginning to drizzle.
The door was opened within seconds, and the young woman standing on the threshold smiled when she saw Vicky. ‘Mrs Forth, how nice to see you again, and so soon! Fenella is in her office, do please come in.’ She opened the door wider and ushered Vicky inside.
After hanging Vicky’s top coat in the hall cupboard, the young woman said, ‘Come along, I’ll take you to her office.’
‘Thanks, Dora, but I do think I know the way by now,’ Vicky replied, laughing.
Fenella Fayne jumped up when she saw Vicky in the doorway of her office and immediately came around the desk, greeted her old friend affectionately.
‘Let’s sit over there by the fire,’ Fenella suggested. ‘It’s turned chilly today, and it’s damp as well.’
‘It’s not very nice out,’ Vicky murmured, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs which Fenella had pulled up to the grate. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘I’d like to get straight to the point, Fenella. I’ve made up my mind. I do want to come and work with you here.’
Fenella’s face lit up, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh, Vicky! I’m thrilled. And I can truly make use of you.’
‘That suits me fine,’ Vicky answered, and continued, ‘I know you’re overworked. I can give you two full days every week. Would you like me Tuesday and Wednesday? Or Wednesday and Thursday?’
Without even having to think twice, Fenella replied, ‘Tuesday and Wednesday is so much better, Tuesday being closer to the previous weekend. We get quite a few injured women coming in for help on Mondays and Tuesdays.’ Fenella shook her head sadly. ‘You see, Vicky, their men have been in the public houses for most of the weekend, and the women get knocked about when the men get home from the pubs.’ Fenella grimaced and continued, ‘Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid, some of these women. Black eyes, broken bones.’
‘I do have a few nursing skills,’ Vicky reminded her friend, ‘and you said the other day you needed someone who would make stews, soups, that kind of fare. I’m quite a good cook actually.’ She smiled. ‘But I’ll do anything you want, even scrub floors. I just feel I must help in some way. There’s such poverty here in the East End.’
‘Vicky, there’s so much you can do, even taking on some of my paperwork would be a godsend. Now, I would just like to mention there are a few little rules. If I may explain them to you?’
‘Yes, of course, please do.’
‘You won’t be called Mrs Forth once you start working with us, but Mrs Vicky. It makes the women feel more at ease, not using a surname, and actually they don’t even want to call you by your first name either. They also feel awkward about that, think it’s too familiar. So I devised a compromise. The same thing goes for titles…I’m not Lady Fayne or Lady Fenella to them but Mrs Fenella, and Dora is not Lady Dora but Miss Dora. Two other rules. Their husbands can visit them if the women are here for a few days. But they must be absolutely sober and they must remain on the ground floor. Finally, we never press the ladies too hard, if they don’t want to discuss how they were injured. They are extremely protective of their men, you see. Oh, one other point. Sometimes they bring a small child with them, and we let the child stay here until the mother is well again. And I think that’s about it.’
‘I understand everything, and I’ll certainly do the best I can. My heart will be in it, Fenella, I can assure you of that.’
‘I know that, my dear, and I can only say thank you from the bottom of my heart for volunteering in this way. You are a sight for sore eyes. How’s Lily? I haven’t seen her lately.’
‘She’s very well, Fenella, and she did ask me to give you her love.’
‘Thank you, and mine to her. She’s such a wonderful person. Only last week I received several bundles of clothes from her, all of them useful. They can be remade, simplified. I just sent her a note thanking her.’ Fenella suddenly stood up, and continued, ‘When will you be able to start helping us, Vicky darling?’
‘I’ll be here next Tuesday morning, if that’s all right?’
‘It is, and by the way, always remember to book yourself a hansom cab to pick you up in the late afternoon. They are very scarce, hard to find around here.’
A few minutes later as she walked back to the hansom cab waiting for her near the High Street, Vicky thought about her friend.
Fenella was the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne who had been killed in a hunting accident several years before. She was now twenty-seven, and had once told Vicky that helping the needy and downtrodden women in the East End had helped to assuage her grief to a certain extent, given her a purpose in life. Although she had worked at Haddon House, a charity founded by her aunt, Fenella had been somewhat reclusive in her widowhood until very recently. For the past nine months she had been socializing once more, living in two entirely different worlds. Vicky admired her, admired Fenella’s fortitude, strength and generosity of spirit. She was going to do her best for Haddon House.
Edward sat in a comfortable chair in the Smoking Room at White’s, waiting for Neville to come. Johnny, Will and he had arrived twenty minutes earlier, but the other two had decided to ‘knock a few balls around the table’, as Johnny put it, and they had gone into the Billiards Room.
Nursing a whisky and soda Edward drifted with his thoughts, mostly thinking of Deravenels and the detailed plans for the takeover. Everything was coming together.
Occasionally he caught a wisp of conversation from other men in the room, and he smiled inwardly. Men could gossip just as easily as women.
The three men who sat at the table next to him, smoking cigars and relaxing after a day at business, were talking quite loudly. He cocked his ear for a moment.