Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

your clothes organized? She did that for you for years when you were growing up. Let her shop for you, select skirt suits, trouser suits, coats, shoes, accessories. Everything, actually. She can get things together here, and all you have to do is try them on, choose and discard. And you can do it at night.’

      Elizabeth’s expression brightened. ‘That’s a fantastic idea, Kat! And I’ve got another one. Would you take over the running of this apartment and Ravenscar? I’ve been doing that myself, as you know, but I don’t think I’ll have much time in the future. The demands on me at Deravenels will be huge.’

      ‘But Ravenscar is Lucas’s bailiwick, isn’t it? Won’t he resent interference from me?’

      ‘No, he won’t. Anyway, you’ll only be supervising, visiting occasionally, making sure the estate is all right, and the exteriors of the house in good condition. You won’t be intruding in any of the domestic arrangements. Lucas and his wife Marta manage the house very well, and we have a few women from the village who come in and help with the cleaning. As for this apartment, there’s not much to supervise, I realize that, and certainly Angelina is a good housekeeper. But there’s Waverley Court in Kent. I’ve been going down every few weeks to make sure that there are no problems. I won’t be able to do that now, not with the workload I’m facing.’

      Kat didn’t have to think twice. ‘Of course I’ll do it! Actually, I think I’d enjoy it … what you’re proposing is that I become a steward, as they were called a century ago, someone who administers properties, houses, estates, and the finances of those places. Am I correct?’

      ‘Yes.’ Leaning forward, Elizabeth went on, ‘Then there’s Stonehurst Farm to think of. Grace Rose gave it to my father years ago, and Mary always used it, just as she used the old house in Chelsea. What about those properties? Actually, what am I going to do with them, Kat?’

      ‘You don’t want to live in the Chelsea house?’

      ‘No, I don’t. I like this apartment.’

      ‘That house has been in the family for years. It was passed down from Richard Deravenel to your grandmother, and Bess left it to your father. ‘If I remember correctly he lived there, too, at one time.’

      ‘But he never went to Stonehurst Farm. As you know, he preferred Waverley Court when he wanted to stay in the south of England. He loved Ravenscar the best, as I do.’

      ‘I remember. But look here, let’s go into your study and make a list of what you’ll need me to attend to, Elizabeth. Personally, I think I will have to concentrate on the house in Chelsea and Stonehurst Farm first, since Mary has been living in both places for years. Someone will have to deal with all of her possessions, sort them out.’

      ‘Oh, God, you’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. And there’s something else, Kat.’ Elizabeth jumped up, and beckoned for Kat to follow as she headed for her study. ‘I’ve got all these bank vaults to inspect. Would you help me with those?’

      ‘Naturally. I’ll take over, don’t you worry. What you have to do is concentrate on Deravenels, and the running of it.’

      Later that day Elizabeth recalled Kat’s words about concentrating on Deravenels and running it; when she had said them this morning, they had struck a chord in her mind. Now she remembered. Her father had said something similar to her when she was nine years old. But about himself, not her. That particular day had always stayed in her mind, the memory of it very clear. It had been the day her father had welcomed her back into the family … such a happy day. She leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes, remembering …

      ‘Don’t stand there, hanging back like that,’ Harry Turner said, his blue eyes roaming over the young girl standing before him in the library.

      The girl nodded, took a step closer to him, clearing her throat.

      Frowning, he asked in a pleasant voice, ‘Surely you’re not afraid of me, Elizabeth, are you?’

      Having always said she was not afraid of anyone or anything, Elizabeth denied this at once. ‘No, Father, I’m not afraid of you. However, we’re not very well acquainted, are we? Perhaps I’m a little shy.’

      A smile tugged at his mouth, and then he said, ‘Don’t be shy with me, I’m your father. Now come, give me a kiss.’

      Elizabeth walked forward and Harry bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. Then he said, ‘I hear that you are doing well at school, that you are an exceptional student. That pleases me, Elizabeth.’

      Putting her hand in her green blazer pocket, Elizabeth pulled out an envelope and offered it to him. ‘This is for you, Father. My school report.’

      Nodding, he took it from her, and read it. ‘Congratulations are in order, I see!’ he exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. ‘You’re the top of your class, and you have an A-plus in everything. Good Lord, do you really speak five languages?’ He stared at her, obviously impressed.

      ‘If you include English, yes.’

      He laughed. ‘And what are the other four?’

      ‘Latin, French, Italian and German.’

      ‘German’s tough to master. Clever girl, clever girl, Elizabeth. Now turn around, let me look at you properly.’

      She did as he asked, feeling able to smile at him, feeling more relaxed, less intimidated.

      ‘By God, you’re a true Turner!’ he cried. ‘My red-gold hair, my height, and my father’s lean build. And a Deravenel as well. You have my mother’s colouring, yes indeed. Well, I can’t say I mind having a true Turner for a daughter. I’m rather chuffed about it, actually. Now let’s go to the dining room and have lunch, and I shall tell you all about Deravenels, and how I run it.’

      Elizabeth looked up at him, and a wide smile spread across her face. ‘I’d like that, Father, and perhaps one day you will take me to Deravenels.’

      ‘After lunch,’ he promised, getting hold of her hand and leading her to the dining room in the Chelsea house.

      Sitting up in the chair, Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and went into her dressing room, stood staring at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was a true Turner all right, with a large dose of Deravenel thrown in.

      The smile lingered on her face as she went into the library and sat down at the desk in the corner. How could she ever forget that day …? The day she was rehabilitated and became something of a favourite of his … the day she had started to admire him, understanding what an extraordinary tycoon he was. And love for him had softened all that hatred, which had formed around her like a carapace. She would always have mixed feelings about her father, but loving him had become easier as the next few years had passed, and by the time he died there was little hatred left. She was glad of that.

      FIVE

      ‘Come on, Elizabeth, stop dithering and let’s go,’ Robert Dunley said, staring hard at her. ‘We don’t have to stay very long if you don’t want to, but I do think it’s a good idea to have a look around.’

      ‘Oh, all right,’ she answered after another moment of hesitation. Robert had invited her to have Sunday lunch at the Savoy, but when she had arrived a few minutes ago he had told her they first had to go over to Deravenels.

      Nodding, looking pleased, he now took hold of her arm, propelled her through the hotel lobby and out into the forecourt. Within seconds they were crossing the Strand, heading for the humungous building that was Deravenels.

      ‘What is it that you want me to see, actually?’ she asked curiously.

      ‘It’s