Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

      Once they were in the dining room, Elizabeth turned to Cecil, and said, ‘Come and sit next to me, and Nicholas, Robin, please sit opposite.’

      They all took their seats, and Elizabeth said, ‘We’re having Yorkshire pudding first, then leg of lamb, roast potatoes and the usual vegetables. I hope you’re going to enjoy it.’

      Nicholas grinned. ‘A traditional Sunday lunch is my favourite meal of the week. I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.’

      ‘I bet you didn’t get many of those in Paris, did you, old chap?’ Cecil said. ‘And by the way, I for one am glad you’re back.’

      ‘So am I,’ Nicholas asserted. ‘And from what I’ve gathered from our phone conversations, there’s a lot for us to do.’

      Cecil nodded. ‘That’s true, but before we start reorganizing the company, and getting it on a more profitable level, I think we have to do something about the board. It’s top heavy.’

      ‘It certainly is!’ Elizabeth exclaimed. ‘Mary added far too many additional board members, and in my opinion it should go back to the way it was in my father’s time. Eighteen.’

      ‘Agreed, and –’ Cecil broke off as Lucas came in carrying a tray followed by a young maid.

      The butler placed the tray on a side table, and then he and the maid gave everyone a plate on which there was a large, round Yorkshire pudding.

      After serving the gravy, the butler asked, ‘Shall I pour the wine now, Miss Turner?’

      ‘Why not, Lucas. Thank you.’

      Once they were alone again, Nicholas looked across the table at Cecil and Elizabeth, and said, ‘A large board is unwieldly, don’t you think? And also too many voices and lots of differing opinions create monumental problems in the long run. I’m glad you’ve decided to tighten it up.’

      ‘The whole company needs tightening up,’ Robert said. ‘There’s been a lot of waste. Not only of money, but of talent as well. The company needs new blood, new young blood, quite apart from anything else.’

      ‘Robert, you took the words right out of my mouth,’ said Cecil, inclining his head. ‘And now, here’s a toast to you, Elizabeth.’ He picked up his crystal goblet of red wine, and raised it to her. ‘To a new beginning at Deravenels and your great success!’

      The other two men repeated her name, and lifted their glasses; Elizabeth smiled at them, her dark eyes glowing, and they all took a sip of the vintage claret.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said as she put the glass down on the table again. ‘I just want to say that I’m happy the three of you are here with me today, and that we’re going to face the future together at Deravenels. I don’t think I could do it without you.’

      ‘Oh, you could,’ Robert said confidently. ‘But it’ll be better with us around, don’t you think?’

      She laughed, began to eat, and the men followed suit.

      From time to time Robert looked across the table at her and held her gaze until she glanced down at her plate and continued to eat. She was so happy he had decided to come up, be with her on this very special day. He looked wonderful, so good-looking, so very glamorous. All of a sudden she realised she was staring at him, perhaps a little too intently, when he raised a dark brow and threw her a questioning look. Her stomach tightened and she felt herself flushing. Much to her astonishment, she had become very aware of him physically in the last hour or so, extremely conscious of his presence.

      FOUR

      He has not changed much over the years, my friend Robin. Not in character at least. He has always been thoughtful, caring, worrying about my comfort; or second-guessing me; or showing up out of the blue, as if he could read my mind. When I was a child I was always hoping he would persuade his father to bring him to Kent to stay with us. Often I got down and prayed that he would arrive.

      Sometimes he and his father would show up at Waverley Court, usually on a Friday afternoon, and John Dunley would leave Robin with us for the weekend, or often longer in the summer. Kat Ashe, my governess, had taken a great liking to Robin and welcomed him warmly. Looking back. I’m sure it was Kat and Robin’s father who concocted these visits between them, knowing how isolated I was.

      We first met at my father’s Chelsea house, and we took an instant liking to each other. That day when he came to have lunch and play with me, I asked him how old he was, and he told me he was eight. I remember how surprised I was, because he was tall and looked older, and then I confided, ‘I’m also eight. My birthday is on September the seventh. When’s yours?’ I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look of astonishment on Robin’s face. ‘That’s my birthday too! September the seventh. We’ll have to have a joint party!’ He grinned at me and exclaimed, ‘Gosh, we’re actually twins, Elizabeth!’ It’s often struck me how alike he and I are, in fact.

      I was a lonely little girl. My father had taken a terrible dislike to me after my mother died in a car accident in France. He shunned me, eventually disowned me, and shunted me around to stay with any of his relatives who would have me. I felt unwanted and unloved, and actually I was. By him, anyway.

      Eventually, Father sent me to Kent, to live at Stonehurst Farm. And Kat came too. She became a surrogate mother to me; Kat loved me very much, and loves me to this day, but, as can only be expected, in those days I wanted my father’s love. He with-held it. In fact, he was cruel and inhuman in his behaviour towards me.

      My father abandoned me, showed me little or no consideration, and did not bother much about my well being, leaving everything to Kat. He was verbally abusive to me when we did meet, calling me terrible names, telling me I was a bastard, insisting that he was not my father, and shouting at me, saying that my mother had been a cheating whore. I never quite understood why he hated me so much, and I still don’t, not really. Obviously, I was terrified of him.

      When I was little I pretended that Robin was my brother, because I so desperately wanted a family, wanted to belong to somebody. And needed someone to love. I loved Robin then, and I still love him. He is my best friend. And I know, deep inside, that I am his; certainly he’s often told me so. We were close in childhood, but we drifted apart as we grew older and he was sent off to boarding school. Still, if I ever needed him, he was always there for me, and in those awful days when Mary was vengeful and mean, he was kind and comforting. My loyal and devoted Robin.

      I’m glad Cecil likes him. They’ve known each other for years because Cecil worked for Robin’s father at one time, which was when they got to know each other. They are somewhat different in temperament. Cecil Williams, with his grey eyes and clever face and bright intelligence, is a man that everyone trusts and listens to. Like me, he has a degree of caution, is wary and does not make hasty decisions. He watches and waits, as I do. A lawyer by training, he scrupulously abides by the rules.

      Robin is also intelligent, shrewd and clever, and has proved himself to be brilliant in business. His handsome features and dark good looks, plus an easy natural charm and a gift of the gab, add to his potent charisma. And with his height and build and flair for clothes, women tend to run after him, fall at his feet. Although he doesn’t pay much attention to them, I know he likes women and their company. But he’s never been a womanizer; he has a good reputation in that respect. The only thing I have ever cautioned him about is his impulsiveness. And he does appear to be more restrained these days.

      I’m glad he came up to Yorkshire last Sunday. It was a lovely surprise and he, Nicholas, Cecil and I were able to talk at length about Deravenels and future plans. He and Nicholas left