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

Mr Deravenel. I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear at the outset of this conversation. Accidental or on purpose, we don’t know yet. And this leads me to another point, and that is Mr Masters’s demeanour. How was he in the last few weeks? Sad? Despondent about anything? Did he appear worried? Or did he perhaps behave differently in some way?’ He looked at Alfredo in particular.

      ‘He was totally normal, Inspector,’ Alfredo announced in a firm and positive voice. ‘Actually, he was in an especially good mood on Monday, although in a bit of a hurry to get away from the meeting we were having. He explained he didn’t want to be late for an appointment out of the office. The following day, Tuesday, we bumped into each other in the corridor here, and he was very cordial. But I must admit, he did appear to be preoccupied. That’s all I can tell you.’

      ‘He was very preoccupied, Inspector,’ Rob volunteered. ‘And I agree with Oliveri in that I myself thought he was in a good humour on Monday, and certainly normal in everything he did.’

      Inspector Laidlaw nodded. ‘It’s probably all very simple really. No doubt he did have a heart condition he was hiding from his wife and everyone here at his place of work. He must have gone to Dr Springer for that reason, who put him on digitalis. The other night he more than likely misjudged the dose, took too much.’

      ‘Is there going to be an inquest?’ Edward asked.

      ‘Oh yes, of course, sir. It will be held next week according to the coroner.’ Standing up, Inspector Laidlaw thanked them for their cooperation. ‘I’ll be in touch with you, gentlemen, as soon as I have more information.’

      Edward left his office with the Inspector and escorted him down the corridor in the direction of the grand staircase. As they walked along side by side, Edward said, at one moment, in a low voice, ‘There is the possibility he committed suicide, isn’t there?’

      ‘Yes, indeed, Mr Deravenel.’

      ‘I didn’t know Aubrey Masters well, but he didn’t strike me as the kind of man who would misjudge the amount of medication he should take. He was rather precise,’ Edward confided in the same quiet voice. ‘And yet he did take an overdose, didn’t he?’

      The policeman nodded, and murmured in an equally low tone, ‘If you have any more thoughts or information to pass on, you can reach me at Scotland Yard, Mr Deravenel.’

      When Edward walked back into his office a few minutes later, Alfredo and Rob were laughing hilariously.

      ‘What’s the joke?’ he asked, and then began to laugh himself. When he finally sobered, Edward said, ‘Honestly, Aspen, I thought I was going to explode. There you were, mincing your words, trying to be careful around the Inspector, being ever so discreet. You could have just come out with it and said Masters couldn’t get an erection. The Inspector was striving to suppress his own laughter. I saw that immediately.’

      Alfredo pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. ‘You sounded like your own maiden aunt, Aspen.’

      ‘I know,’ Rob admitted, looking chagrined. ‘It was foolish of me, but I was simply trying to say what I had to say without being—bloody vulgar.’

      ‘Inspector Laidlaw’s one of the boys, a good sport, I can tell you that,’ Edward remarked, grinning again. ‘I think he would have appreciated a good laugh, in fact.’

      Alfredo walked over to the window and looked down into the Strand for a moment, then swung his head and said to Edward, ‘I think Masters might have committed suicide, because of the skimming. You and I both think he might be involved in that, and so does Aspen, by the way.’

      Rob, who was leaning against the desk nonchalantly, nodded his head. ‘It’s bound to come to light in the next few months—unless there’s a real cover-up, unless they make it go away. It’ll be miraculous if they do.’

      ‘You’re correct in that,’ Ned answered, and went and sat down behind his desk. ‘I told Inspector Laidlaw that I’ll be in touch if anything comes to mind, so put your thinking caps on, my lads, and think hard. I’d like to help Laidlaw, if I can. He’s a nice chap.’

      Alfredo said, ‘I couldn’t believe it when the Inspector asked if Masters had another woman. Can you imagine that—Aubrey Masters and a lady of the night.’

      ‘Please don’t,’ Ned muttered, grimacing. ‘It’s certainly not something I want to think about, I can tell you that. Masters was rather a strange duck in my opinion, and also quite ghastly, actually.’

      Rob chuckled. ‘You’re right, and it’s certainly hard to envision him as a ladies’ man, even when the lady isn’t a lady. Think of that.’

      ‘God forbid!’ Ned exclaimed.

       TWENTY-SEVEN

      He paused, his hand on the knob of the library door, listening acutely, wondering if he had been mistaken. No, he had not. He could hear someone sobbing, but he hesitated for a moment before entering. He was not sure who was in there but whoever it was sounded extremely upset.

      Quietly, Edward opened the door and looked into the long, elegant room. In the dim light the dark green walls looked even darker at this early hour. Nevertheless, he saw his sister at once. Meg was bent over the mahogany reading table, her head down on her arms, weeping as if her heart would break.

      He experienced a swift rush of love and concern for the fifteen-year-old girl, and went into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

      Although he was tall and well built, Edward moved lightly and with grace; he was halfway across the floor on silent feet before Meg lifted her head and saw him.

      Instantly, she jumped up and flew across the room, threw herself against his body. His arms went around her; he held her tightly, close to him, protectively.

      Quietly, in a low, loving voice he attempted to soothe her, stroked her hair. Like many large men, Edward Deravenel was gentle, tender, and especially so with women and his younger siblings.

      Within a few minutes her heaving abated, slowed to a few gasps, and bending over her, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. ‘Too many tears for such a beautiful girl as you, Meg. Now, what’s this all about, my love? Why were you crying so hard?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ she began, her voice faltering, and shook her head. ‘I’m worried, I suppose—’ She broke off, compressed her lips and the tears welled again, fell down her cheeks unchecked.

      ‘And perhaps a little frightened, I suspect.’ Leaning into her, Edward wiped the tears from her face with his fingertips, kissed her forehead. Then he pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, and offering it to her, he told her, ‘Come along, blow your nose, and let’s go and sit over there and have a little chat.’

      She nodded, took his handkerchief, did as he asked, and walked back to the circular reading table. Edward followed her, glancing around the room, thinking how peaceful and quiet it was on this sunny Saturday morning.

      The walls were covered in a dark-green damask fabric, this colour offset by the white painted woodwork, ceiling mouldings, the door, the white marble fireplace, and the line of white-painted bookcases. These were filled with hundreds of volumes collected by his forebears. With its dark-green silk draperies, red leather chairs, Oriental rugs and a Chesterfield sofa covered with paisley-patterned fabric, it was a masculine room, yet not oppressively so.

      Edward pulled out a chair next to Meg, and sat down. ‘Tell me what’s troubling you, sweetheart. Perhaps I can help.’

      ‘I suppose you were right when you said I was frightened, Ned. Such terrible things have happened lately…too many for one family to bear. Papa and Edmund murdered, Uncle Rick and Thomas as well, then the attack on you. You could have been killed,