The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

can do it, Neville assured me of that. Of course my mother is safe, because she has her inheritance which Neville will now manage, but I must take from the company all that which is my due. I must find out why my father was always so impoverished, and rectify that situation as soon as I can. And I must find myself a house, a proper place to live. My mother owns the house in Charles Street, and although she offered it to me I cannot take it from her. That would be most unfair since it is actually hers by inheritance from her father.

      My mother is self-contained, but then that is her nature, and knowing her as well as I do, I understand that her grief for my father and Edmund is very raw. It will take a long time to heal, if it ever does. But she is stoic and she will go on doggedly, and unbowed, taking care of Richard and George, and my sister Meg, raising them as my father would want them to be raised.

      Before I left Ravenscar I informed my mother about the black notebook, which Alfredo Oliveri had mentioned to me in Carrara. A notebook constantly used by my father, who made daily jottings in it. She and I searched for it, but had no success whatsoever. She will continue to look for it, as I did in his rooms at Charles Street before coming down here to Kent. No luck so far.

      Oliveri will be most useful to us, and he has promised to help in any way he can. He is an undoubted ally. I am lucky to have him on my side. He says we can win. I believe him.

      Will had been coming to Stonehurst ever since his sister had bought the place twelve years ago. She had purchased the property not long after the death of her first husband Miles Tomlinson, wishing to leave the hustle and bustle of London for the tranquillity of the Kentish countryside. She had also turned the restoration of the old farmhouse and its decoration into a project to help keep grief at bay.

      To some extent she had succeeded in this effort, and Will had been her willing helper over the years. He had grown to care for Stonehurst as much as she did, in winter as well as summer. The old farmhouse was surrounded by a hundred and fifty acres of wonderful land—there were fields and pastures, as well as a pond and a bluebell wood, and beyond the vast flower gardens was the Romney Marsh.

      To Will, the Marsh was mysterious, a magical kind of place with its wild, blowing grasses and winding paths, its perpetual mists which rose at dusk and floated over the landscape, obscuring everything. And at this particular twilight hour the salty smell of the sea was carried in on the light breeze, reminding everyone how close the English Channel was.

      In olden days the locals had latched their windows at this time of day, believing that the mists caused the ague; others had fastened their shutters tight because they were certain ghosts were at large on the Marsh.

      Vicky generally laughed at these old wives’ tales which were still told to whomever would listen, and when it came to the mention of ghosts she usually muttered under her breath to Will, ‘More like the local smugglers winding their way inland from the sea, hauling their tobacco, their wines and brandy from France.’ He agreed with her, fully believed the smugglers still plied their dubious trade here.

      This afternoon, as he strode along the flagged path which led from the back terrace to the gardens, he could not help thinking how beautiful the landscape was even on this cold February Saturday. It was growing late, was almost dusk already, and the grey sky of early afternoon had changed, darkened, and was filled with rafts of fiery red and purple along the horizon. Or was that the sea? Some of the low-lying Marsh beyond the gardens was well below sea level, and frequently it seemed to him that the sea in the distance was high in the sky. A most curious illusion.

      ‘Will, Will! Wait for me!’

      He swung around at the sound of Ned’s voice, and stood waiting as his friend hurried down the path at a fast pace.

      ‘Why didn’t you ask me to come for a walk with you?’ Ned demanded, peering at Will. ‘Or did you feel like being alone? Am I intruding?’

      Linking his arm through Ned’s, Will shook his head, drew closer to his friend as they walked on together. ‘I thought I’d better leave you to your own devices after lunch. You seemed so upset this morning, and were rather silent at lunchtime.’

      ‘I was, and with good reason, don’t you think?’

      ‘Yes, I do. Anyway, I knew you were up in your room alone, since Lily and Vicky took the horse and trap into the village after you disappeared. I just saw them coming back and so I ducked out here.’

      ‘For a man who doesn’t like rural life, who protests so much about country living, and who prefers the gaiety, bright lights and razzle dazzle of London, you certainly seem rather attached to Stonehurst,’ Ned remarked, sneaking a surreptitious glance at Will as they headed down the path together.

      ‘I have grown attached to it, actually, perhaps because I helped Vicky bludgeon it into shape, and because we shared something rather special, a unique relationship during that time, just after Miles died. I was fourteen or fifteen, thereabouts, and we worked well together and we bonded. She has always reminded me that I helped her to combat her grief. But to be honest, Ned, I wouldn’t want to live in the country permanently. I like to visit Vicky because we’re so close. I’m also fascinated by the Marsh. There’s something curious about that land out there that spells mystery to me.’

      Ned laughed. ‘Ah yes, I do understand. It appeals to the young adventurous lad that still exists inside you…stories of smugglers, and baccy and brandy-running, and God knows what else. But I understand what you mean, and I also appreciate that the Romney Marsh has a genuine history to it.’ Peering ahead as they came to the edge of the lawns, Ned added, ‘And there’s romance there, too…a fair wind for France tonight, and all that, eh?’

      Will had the good grace to smile, knowing full well that Ned was teasing him. ‘Well, perhaps you’re right, perhaps that’s so, the romance of it,’ he agreed. Then he changed the subject. In a concerned voice he said, ‘You are all right now, Ned, aren’t you?’

      ‘I suppose I am. However, I must admit I thought Lily was being as thick as a plank earlier today. And like you, Will, I have always considered her to be, well, rather smart, a clever woman.’

      ‘I agree, I mean about her being somewhat dense this morning. On the other hand, I believe she’s intelligent, bright. She’s also thirty-two and an experienced woman of the world, wouldn’t you say? But you know, I remember now that Vicky once told me Lily thinks she’s an expert on the law, knows a lot about legalities, legal proceedings and such, because she was married to a solicitor for a number of years. Obviously she believes she’s got one up on all of us, that she is the expert.’

      Ned said, in a soft but emphatic voice, ‘I’ve really tried to place my grief in its own place, deep within myself. It is there, and it always will be, but it’s buried now, deep in my heart. I have had to do this in order to go on, Will. I must concentrate on the present and the future. My past and those tragic deaths will always be with me. However, I cannot allow feelings of grief to dominate me. I must move forward, and I know you understand this, Will.’

      ‘I do, and yes, I think that Lily did probe too much. But she wasn’t trying to hurt you intentionally, she was just being…assertive and she probably thought she was showing concern.’ He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘After all, she’s a woman, and who on earth can understand those adorable but tantalizing creatures, understand what they do and say? Not I, for one.’

      Edward was silent. The two men walked on, content to be in each other’s company. They were, in a sense, like brothers, and their bond of friendship was true and strong. It would last a lifetime, though neither of them knew that.

      When they had left the lawns behind and were standing close to the seafront, Will suddenly murmured, ‘Fair wind for France indeed, Ned. Just look over there, the lights of the French coastline